Twenty Times Edward Elric's Heart Stopped
by Gandalf3213
Summary: Edward has watched his brother grow up, had taken on the position of over-protective older brother. You couldn't go through life as an Alchemist without witnessing some horrors, but the worst,the absolute worst, were the twenty times Alphonse almost died
1. Preface

**A/N: Standard stuff here. We obviously don't own FMA, or we'd be over the moon happy and probably not writing fanfiction. Oh, and there's be another season of anime and a lot less Noah in the movie. And Hughes would be alive. But we don't own the show. Just this story. **

"_Those Elric brothers….they only live for each other." __**Scar**_

"Brother?"

Edward rolled over in his sleep, pushing Al's quiet voice out of his head. He knew that the younger boy didn't have to sleep, that sleep had eluded Al for almost four years, but he needed rest. Impatiently, he mumbled, "What, Al?"

"Brother!"

"Wha ---woah! Al, be careful! What's going on?" Ed found himself suddenly in Al's arms and they were running. Still disoriented from the sudden awakening, Ed could only get vague pictures of what was going on.

The inn was on fire. People ran from the growing inferno, which stood between the brothers and the door. Burning beams crashed down, so close Ed could smell the hair burning on his arms. Through the haze in his mind, he heard Al's quiet voice laced with fear. "Brother, get in my armor!"

"No, I can put this out." Ed struggled to get out of Al's grip, instead finding himself being pushed irresistibly inside Al's body.

God, the metal was hot. "Al, I'll transmute you if you don't let me out!" The empty threat meant nothing to Alphonse, who was hastily drawing a circle in the ash, cringing every time a piece of burning debris landed too near. Of course, his body would stand the heat, as long as it didn't start warping the metal, but Ed couldn't stay there for long.

A path in the fire opened and Al hurried through it, his hands already taking the metal head off its perch, digging inside the empty shell for Ed. "Sorry brother!" Alphonse lamented, gently placing a none-too-happy Edward on the ground. The boy quickly checked the older one for burns before turning back to the inn. "There's someone in there!"

"Well, let's go!" Ed stood up, about to rush back into the building when a hacking cough he had been suppressing came out. Rolling his eyes, he said, "Fine. From outside then." Al had already drawn the circle on the ground by the time Ed brought his hands together.

A flash of light, then…nothing. The fire was gone.

Edward worried about Al sometimes.

Usually it was stupid stuff, stuff he didn't even have to worry about anymore, like whether his brother was hungry or cold or tired. Sometimes he forgot that Al was no longer small and soft and huggable. Sometimes he forgot that Al weighed more than him, was taller, quicker, stronger. At those times, Al was just a baby that Edward had to protect, just his little brother, his perfect, beautiful, doting brother.

He knew that the military, Teacher, Winry…heck, everyone they'd met, had pegged him as the over-protective big brother he was.

They didn't know the half of it.

There were twenty times in Ed's life that his heart had stopped beating. Twenty times that, watching his brother, he thought for a moment that Alphonse would die. For a second, his heart would literally die in his chest and he would wonder, vaguely, how he could go one without his brother.

When Ed was about ten, he realized that he wouldn't be able to live without Al. His brother was his whole world. He knew that death for one of them meant death for the other. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

**Just a little teaser chapter, but it would be wicked awesome if you reviewed anyway.**


	2. And Both Were Young

"_There are so many times I should have died." __**Alphonse**_

_The First Time_

"Bwodder?"

Edward Elric, age five, looked up from the book on alchemy he was reading. He knew most of the words, and had underlined a few of the harder ones with a pencil so he could ask mother about them when she got back.

It was February and the house was freezing. Sometimes, Ed wished he was bigger that way he could help his mom bring in the wood, but mother had given him a "special" job. Edward had been sitting next to Alphonse, who was in bed with a bad cold, while their mother went out for medicine. "What Al?" Ed asked patiently, putting the book down and crossing over to his younger brother.

Alphonse looked terrible. The four-year-old was pale, his eyes glazed over with a fever much higher than their mother had thought. He twisted and turned in the covers, attempting to draw them nearer to him. "'m cold, Bwodder." Al said quietly, the words coming out in a gasp as he struggled for air.

Ed didn't know what to do. He reached for one of Al's flailing and drew it close to him. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here and mother will be back in just a little bit." He thought of calling Winry and Aunty Pinako, both closer to the boys than their mother who was at the market in town. "You're okay."

And maybe Al would be okay. Somehow, Al always got sick a whole lot more than Edward did, and then he'd stay inside curled up on the couch, his little hands holding a book too big for him, one he probably didn't understand anyway. Edward was always sent to Winry's when Al was sick like that, because his mother didn't want him catching whatever his brother had gotten.

Edward flinched a little when he saw that Al had tears running down his cheeks, which were the only part of his body that wasn't a pale, chalky white. "Bwodder, I hurt!" He patted his chest with one hand, his eyes closing slightly, his little fist beating a drum over his tiny, fluttering heart.

"Go to sleep, Alphonse." Edward murmured. Al was shivering, though his body was covered with sweat. "Do you want a story?"

Al nodded, a moan of pain escaping his lips. The young boy felt as if a fire had been built in his lungs and was eating at his insides…his head was pounding…the only thing that seemed real to him was Brother's hand and his voice, which kept going in and out like the radio in the living room that sometimes worked, only this radio was talking directly to him, and it sounded a little scared, not at all like Brother usually sounded.

"Okay…umm…Once upon a time," Edward started, leaning his head against Al's forehead, trying to compose his thoughts. "Once upon a time, there were two boys, and they were brothers, and they were alchemists." Edward didn't know if Al could hear him but he kept going, almost unable to stop.

"They traveled all over and helped a lot of people and caught a lot of bad guys. They were heroes. But then one day the younger brother got hurt and was dying. And the older brother didn't know what to do."

Edward prided himself on his inability to cry. At five, he rarely shed tears over small hurts. But now a tear splashed into Al's forehead, mingling in with the sweat there. "And the older brother loved his younger brother. Very much." Ed didn't know if he would have been able to say this with Al conscious. "So he decided that he would do anything to save his brother." _Anything_.

A small hand squeezed his and Ed looked down, his vision blurry from new-found tears. Al gave another gasp, arching his small back in pain, tremors wracking the frail body. "Bwodder!" Al's eyes were opened wide, his breath coming in short, quick gasps.

"Alphonse…?" Ed didn't know what was happening. He didn't know how to stop it…

And then suddenly, Al went limp, his body unmoving. Not even a breath escaped his body.

"What?" The word was a whisper, a gasp of unknowing. Ed didn't understand --- Al had just been sick. They got sick all the time. But now he wasn't moving or breathing and Ed knew that was wrong. Al looked just like the little kittens, the one they'd found on the porch after their mother abandoned them. There had been two, and they lay just as unnaturally still as Alphonse.

"Al, Al don't play games. C'mon, you have to wake up." Ed pushed his little brother's wet shoulder, watching the small body didn't react. "Al!" Something was definitely wrong. "Al, you have to wake up!"

But Al didn't respond to his brother's pleas, not even when Edward used a washcloth to cool the younger boy's body. The heat was slowly fading from Al's limbs.

Some small part of Edward Elric died in his chest. He continued holding his brother's hand, rocking slightly, whispering the end of the story he hadn't been able to finish for Al. He said the words over and over, until he believed them.

_The older brother gave up a part of himself to save the younger brother, and the younger brother got better. They both went back at home and lived happily ever after_.

At five, Edward understood the concept of death pretty well. He knew that Winry's parents were dead, which meant that they weren't coming back. Ever. And he knew that sometimes Winry cried because of that, but because she had only been a baby when they left she didn't remember them that much. He also knew that his father was gone forever. He didn't know if his father was dead.

At five, Edward knew that he wouldn't be able to live very long if Al was gone forever. He would miss his brother, who looked at him sometimes as if Ed made the sun come up in the morning. And Al was so little, younger than Ed was. Younger than Winry. Young enough to still not be able to know as many words as Ed, and to cry when the litter of kittens all died, and to climb into bed with mother when she got sad over dad being gone.

And he had only been sick…Edward had been sick a couple of times, and his throat hurt like he had eaten a muffin that was too hot and swallowed too quickly. But when he was sick, it made him toss and turn for a night. It made him grumpy and loud, not real quiet like Al, not shivery even when his body was hot. Like Al.

They were supposed to be alchemists together. They were supposed to travel the world. They were supposed to catch the bad guys and be together for a long time. And Al was never, ever supposed to be hurt, because then Ed wasn't doing his job right. He should make Alphonse laugh, not cry. He should be able to make things better instead of worse.

Was it so much to wish for the power to make his brother happy?

Ed looked at his brother with eyes much older than those of a five-year-old. He smoothed back Al's damp hair, because he knew that Al didn't like having his hair in front of his face. He clumsily kissed Al's forehead, because that's how the prince always wakes the princess up in the story. That part came right before the happily ever after.

When Trica Elric got back with the herbs that would soothe her youngest son, she saw that his fever had already broken. Next to him, Ed lay with his head on Al's chest, and Al's arm was curled around his brother's neck, hopelessly intertwined.

**Because they're brothers, and because Al is so cute, and because five-year-old Ed knows too much, I love this show. **

**As always, please review.**


	3. A River Flows Through It

_"Nothing's perfect…the world's not perfect. But it's there for us, trying the best it can. And that's what makes it so damn beautiful." **Mustang**_

_The Second Time_

Eight-year-old Edward Elric just wanted to walk home with his friends. Why couldn't Al understand that?

The way home was not hard. They had to go down the main street of the town and then take a path through the woods. The path turned at certain places, but they had been walking it for two years now. Surely Alphonse could manage to do it alone for one day?

It was early afternoon when Ed took off with his friends, leaving Al alone in the schoolyard, looking for him. Winry had stayed home all week to help her grandmother get ready for an annual auto-mail convention. Even at eight, Winry knew tools better than anyone, male or female, the Elrics knew, with the possible exception of Aunty Pinako.

"Man, what is up with your little brother?" One of the boys asked. He was ten, but in Ed's grade because he'd been left back n school. He had a reputation for being a tough guy.

Ed immediately felt something surge inside him but quelled it. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's always following you, dude. You turn around and he's just there." The boy snorted out the last words, as if he couldn't believe Edward had a brother that doted on him so much he wanted to go everywhere Ed forbade him from going. Like walking home with the big kids. "He's a freak."

And all the other little monsters laughed as Ed's face turned such a deep shade of crimson he was suddenly unidentifiable from the scarlet tulips behind him. "Don't." He whispered, though he knew he was half the height of these kids. He might have been older, but Al was really closing the gap when it came to who was taller. "Just…don't."

"Why? C'mon, you can't say that you like him following you all the time." As if to prove a point, the kid turned around and made an exaggerated wave to Alphonse, who waved back, ecstatic, hoping for his beloved Brother to invite him to walk with the big kids.

The weirdest thing? Ed did like it. He liked it when Al called him brother, even if that tradition was so outdated it might as well be called archaic, even after their mother had told him a hundred times just to call him Edward or Ed, like the older one always called him Alphonse or Al. He liked that Al would double up in all his classes, reading what Ed read and doing what Ed did, simply because it was Ed doing it.

Still, he should really lay off, unless he wanted to see Ed fight every boy in the grade. Even as the blonde was deciding which alchemy technique to use on the jerk, or whether or not just to flatten him with his fist, he found himself saying, almost against his will, "yeah, he's so annoying."

But he didn't mean it. That was the weird part, why he had no idea why those words came out of his mouth. He loved Al more than anything else in the world. More than the alchemy books he hoarded like a miser, more than Winry, who was really cool for a girl. He might have loved Al more than his mother, though he thought that might have been something nearer to a tie.

And the words just kept coming, as if he wanted to impress these nine-year-olds who were practically illiterate. And the more he talked, the more everyone laughed, and the closer Al got until finally Al was on top of him, his totally unique eyes shocked and a little hurt. "Brother?" Just one word, so full of hurt and betrayal, so low…

Edward Elric looked down at his baby brother and felt a little piece of his heart break. Because Al looked broken, as if Ed had slapped him. Because he knew he was the one who'd done something terrible enough to make Al look that way.

"Alphonse…" All Ed wanted to do was gather the boy in his arms, just big enough to hold him, to stroke his downy hair and promise him that he never meant to say those terrible things, that he loved Al more than life itself.

But the words stuck in his throat when he heard the laughter double, and Al's eyes grew wider, if that was possible, and filled with water that childish pride wouldn't allow to fall. With one last look, one last trembling lip, Al turned and fled.

The horrible feeling stayed in Ed, mutated, twisted his heart until he didn't know whether to scream or cry. He should never, ever see Al's face look like that, like he'd hurt him.

Those monsters were laughing as Edward took off to find his little brother, and their jeers faded in the distance, unimportant, insignificant compared to all the things Edward was saying to himself. You just made the biggest mistake of your life. Even an eight-year-old can recognize mistakes, and wish they could take them back.

Finding Al wasn't hard at all. The boy liked the river, for reasons unknown to Ed, who had an aversion to the water. The bank was steep and rocky and Ed found himself wondering if Al had fallen into the fast-moving current. No one would have seen such a little body go under. No one would ever stop to look…

And then his childish imagination went into overdrive, and he saw Al lying bloody at the base of the hill, a faceless attacker standing over him. Then the murderer gained an identity, and it was Edward looming over his dead brother, bitter smile twisting the young features, knife held high.

"Al!" A battle cry, an apology. "Al!"

A small head popped into view, followed by the rest of the small body. It was bloody, as both Al's knees were scraped, but the wounds were minor compared to those Edward had feared. Worse was the look on the boy's face, the wary look of someone who expected to be hurt even as they hoped they wouldn't be.

He jumped up, and half-heartedly made fists. The smudge of dirt on his cheek made him look little, much younger than seven.

Suddenly, the heartfelt regrets Ed had rehearsed died on his lips when he saw the tears tracking down Al's cheeks, two terrible twins, proving Ed's guilt even when Al impatiently brushed them away.

The brothers stared at each other for a second, a minute, the river humming softly in the background like a put-upon judge, willing the boys to make up. Al's sniffles quieted and he scraped his foot through the dirt, making a circle, then adding lines until it became a crude transmutation rune. Ed's mouth hung open as he tried to find words to gain the forgiveness of the only person that mattered. Words that would fill the mend the strange break that had occurred when he saw Al's face after criticizing him, those eyes, so betrayed…

"Come on, let's go." And it was as if those were the words he was waiting for, just for Ed to notice him, to invite him. Like he'd wanted all along. A smile spread innocently across the round face and Ed had a flash of insight. I don't deserve him.

Not Al's easy-going ways, or his calming personality. He didn't deserve to be idolized, because he was such a bad role model. So hot-headed and impulsive, always on the go, without a plan. Why did little brothers assume that their older counterparts knew everything when, really, Ed was just ad-libbing the whole time?

"'Kay." Ed had to turn around, forced his feet to start walking. But when a small, soft hand found its way into Edward's, he didn't shake himself loose. He gripped it tighter, a hope, a promise, to never let it go.

**Although Edward is the perfect brother, I always wondered what would happen if he hadn't always been. And not all hurts come from physical injuries. **

**Some of the scenes, especially at the end, is from the episode 38. **

**As always, please, please review.**


	4. Quiet Village

"_No! Please don't! He's my little brother --- don't take him away from me!" __**Edward Elric**_

It didn't happen very often, but sometimes Ed's mother couldn't get them any food. She said it was because the bad storm killed her flowers, the ones she sold in town or traded for money. Whenever this happened, Ed and Al would stay with Winry for a few days while their mother peddled embroidery and lace in the city.

But one time when it happened, when they were down to crumbs in the cupboard and stuck in the middle of winter, Winry and Auntie Pinako were gone…had left to Central the day before for an automail convention. And Ed's mother had drawn him into the study while Al was outside playing with one of the strays that liked to visit the house.

Ed was nine, still short, stubborn and intelligent, loyal to Winry and fiercely protective of his brother, just as Al was of him. "Mother?" Al still called her mommy, and Ed did, too, sometimes, but he felt like he had to act more grown up now.

"Edward," she had bent down, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear and looking him in the eye. She had the same color eyes as Al, almost silver, almost not a real color. "I'm going to ask you a big favor. It is a responsibility. I need to go into the city to get more food." Winter was the worst, because the herbs that could bring in so much money refused to grow indoors, and nobody had money to spend on lace anymore. "You need to take care of your brother while I'm gone."

"Mother…" Ed said quietly, "I _always_ take care of Al." It was said with the pride of a child and made the woman smile.

She pushed Ed's blond hair back, so much lighter than her own, that _his_ had been. Where did the children get such fair hair? "Of course you do honey, but this will be for several days. Listen very carefully…"

And she outlined the specifics of the next few days. There was plenty of water and a half loaf of mostly stale bread. Rabbits could be caught easily, even this time of year, and both boys were proficient at that thanks to their alchemy. She should be home before their clothes needed washing, but Ed knew how to hang the linens anyway. They weren't to go further than the lake, and definitely not into town.

"I don't worry about having you two in the woods, not if you stay close to Alphonse, but I don't want you to go to other people, okay?" Then she promised to be home before they knew it, with food and money to last them the rest of the winter. She hugged Ed, told him again to keep Alphonse safe, and went to kiss Al's cheek before taking a case of her best work and leaving.

That night, with Al curled in the hollow of his arm, his pudgy hands twisting in Ed's shirt and hair, Edward felt old. It was only with the departure of his mother that he realized he _could_ take care of Al, that they could function without her. Ed didn't want to be that grown up. Not yet.

For the next few days the boys stayed inside. It was too cold to play outdoors, and even huddled under the blankets they never got quite warm. Ed started a fire by the next night and they slept on the hearth, Al pressed close to the heat of the flames, with the warmth of the blanket and Ed's meager body heat to help him. Ed still remembered Al's cold, though he'd been all of five at the time. He couldn't let that happen again.

By the third day the bread was completely gone and Ed's stomach was rumbling so much he couldn't concentrate on the books, couldn't even do the simplest alchemy. He and Al had already combed the library twice over, looking for the right circle to bring them food, and had found none. If Ed was hungry, how must Al be faring?

At eight, Al was much quieter than Ed, though he smiled more often. He had made it so that Ed had taken the bigger pieces of bread, though it was the older boy intentions that Al himself have them. Alphonse thought that if Ed was watching over him instead of their mother, then Al could at least make sure he had enough to eat.

"Al. Alphonse, wake up." Ed gently shook his younger brother awake, though it was midday. The bitter cold had lessened some so that being outside was tolerable, if not preferable. Still, something about the freezing temperatures and lack of food had made both boys exhausted.

Al blinked slowly, his small, round mouth opening in a yawn that, coupled with a fisted rub of his eyes, made him look much younger than eight. "What is it, brother?"

Ed explained the plan as he helped Al into a coat (the coat had been Ed's the year before. Hand-me-downs were common in their small family, and Al was always thrilled). The two of them would go into town and bring their chalk. They'd perform alchemy in the streets --- little stuff like making toys out of clay and stone. People would give them money and then he could buy Al something hot to make the frosted, dead look in his brother's eyes disappear.

"But brother…" Al trailed off for a second, glancing up quickly at Ed, his hero. He was loathe to disobey one of the older boy's orders but… "didn't mommy say not to go to town?"

"Mommy also said she'd be back by now." Edward didn't want to go against his mother's wishes, but he had to put Al first, and last night Al had shivered so badly each quake felt like a stab to Ed's own heart, and Ed had run his hands up Al's back to realize he could count each of the boy's ribs.

Softening, Ed said, "It's just for a few hours. Take my scarf. I'll wear one of mom's." Making sure Al was zippered and buttoned, they started off towards town. Before they got out of the yard Al picked up one of the tiny, starving kittens and cradled him in his arms. The small weight warmed and comforted him and made the long walk (three miles was far when your legs were short) into town better.

Just like Ed said, the two knelt in the middle of the square that was the intersection of the only two roads. Though it was winter and the cold nipped at the boys like a hungry dog, many others were out and shopping. Ed took a deep breath and nodded to Al, who nodded once before drawing a quick, precise circle in the dirt with the tip of a piece of chalk. He placed his hands on the circle and….a small cat, the exact size of the real one sitting next to the boys, was created out of stone.

_If nothing else_. Ed's nine-year-old mind reasoned, _we could probably sell these toys to someone. It might get us a little money, and that will be enough_. He didn't know how much a sandwich would cost, or hot chocolate, but it couldn't be much more than they could earn in an afternoon, could it?

Suddenly, the small child turned into a business man, using his loud voice and determined spirit to attract people to the two children playing with magic. Ed made fourteen figures of horses, lions, houses…he sold three for two dollars. Al was slower, made six pieces, two kittens, one flower, a teacup…every one of his were sold. More money.

Ed carefully counted their wage as Al jumped in small circles, blowing on his hands, not saying a word about the cold even as Ed whined bitterly. "Al, I think we can get one hot sandwich and a loaf of bread…maybe some tea. What do you think, Al?"

"Al?" Looking up, Ed realized that the town had become more populated, the crowds had gotten thicker. He realized that Al was no longer next to him. "Alphonse!"

As he ran through the crowd, feet thumping too hard against the frozen ground, lungs bursting in the crisp air, Ed could only hear his own words echoing, _don't I always take care of Al?_ His heart was beating double-time…

…and finally stopped beating altogether when he saw his brother cowering, huddled in a ball on the icy earth as a huge man stood over him.

Just as quickly as all his breath and thoughts and emotions had left this body at the sight of Al, they came back. In a rage so overwhelming Ed felt large and powerful, the small boy said, too quiet, "What are you doing?"

Al looked up and Ed felt his heart tear again when he saw the fear written plainly in every line of Al's face. _Don't worry, brother_. Ed thought, trying to soothe himself as much as Al when he said, aloud, "It's okay, Alphonse."

Trying to keep his emotions in check, Ed walked, quivering, up to the large man. He stood imposingly tall, a large knife in his hand, glowering at Al. "What's the problem?" And Ed didn't sound nine. He sounded nineteen…ninety. He sounded old.

The man pointed the knife accusingly in Al's direction. The action finally broke the boy's steadfast resolve and reduced the child to tears as he lay, trembling, in the cold. Ed's heart wrenched painfully. "He was trying to steal my fish!" The man couldn't sound more indignant, and Ed found this laughable. Al was not, after all, a menace to society.

"Brother -- I d-_didn't_…" Al sniffled and pushed himself up on one hand, looking Ed straight in the eye. "It w-was _Willow_." He got to his knees and the mewing cat poked her head out from the crook of Al's elbow. "Sh-she was _hungry_." And that the closest Al ever got to complaining about his hunger.

Ed glared at the fish man, daring him to do something as Ed went over and helped Al to his feet, whispering words of comfort in a soothing tone. "We'll get Willow something to eat, right now." Grudgingly, he looked at the fish man, whose face had gone slack. Soft. "How much for the fish?" It wasn't a large piece that lay on the ground, but it was still the man's product.

The fish man shook his head, "nothing. It was a misunderstanding. The kid can have the fish and…" the man ducked behind his stall, taking out a day-old loaf of bread. "Here," the loaf was shoved into Ed's hands, "for scaring the boy." An apology.

Ed gripped Al's hand and realized the boy was freezing. They both had to get indoors before it began to snow, as the sky had been threatening all day. "Thank you." Ed whispered, and left the town in a hurry before any other pieces of his heart could fall onto the frozen ground.

**I officially have no idea what their mother did for a living, but it didn't seem like much. Let's give it up for Ed, who's just so cute when he'd teeny. **

**Please, please review. **


	5. On Death and Dying

"_We started studying alchemy like our father before us. The more we learned, the more she smiled." __**Alphonse**_

They had money again, and it was warm, and somehow that made everything okay.

So even though Winry cried a lot now, because her mom and dad weren't going to come home, ever, and even though mom smiled really sad and looked tired a lot, Ed was sure that everything would somehow turn out fine in the end.

He and Al had gone to town. "Winry's already lost more than we ever will." Ed said quietly, looking into the sky and blinking away sudden tears. He had known Winry's parents as people who could fix anything, from a broken bone to an injured kitten. Knowing that people as skilled as they could die made Ed feel suddenly insecure and…scared.

"Poor Winry." Al said quietly. Of course, while Ed was busy mulling over his own feelings, Al could think only of their friend. His brother was different that way…if they both went for a tumble down a hill or fell from a tree, Al would always ask him if he was injured before thinking of himself. "Can you imagine how that would be?"

And Ed couldn't. He lifted the groceries higher on his chest, eyes focused on their small house on the hill. How _would_ that be? The two most important people in Ed's life were his mother and Al. If his mother died, he would be sad, like Winry, for a very long time…he would try every way he could think of to get her back.

If Al died, though…Ed's brain wouldn't allow him to think that far. Years stretching ahead without his little brother's smile, or his voice, or his fretful, pure spirit… "Oh, Al…"

"Brother?"

Sighing, smiling a little to reassure the worried boy, Ed ruffled Al's light hair. "C'mon, let's get home." They ran the last few feet, laughing out of pure need for something happy. They burst in the door together, a tie. "Hello, mom, sorry we're late!" Ed called out, already brushing off his melancholy mood.

Their mother was laid out across the ground, her body limp and posed in an unnatural way. No one would sleep like that, no one would voluntarily lie down like that. The only way she could have gotten that way would be by crumpling as her body gave out.

The potatoes fell to the ground as first Ed, then Al processed this unbelievable sight. "Mom!" Ed cried, barely noticing Al's own fearful cries for their mother. His hand fearfully groped for him mother's neck, hoping…

"_She must have been keeping this a secret, not telling anyone."_ That's what the doctor had said. But why wouldn't their mother tell him, if not Al? Edward was nine, old enough to understand a lot of things, including the words 'illness' and 'hurt'.

"Edward." Trisha asked, turning her face so that she as looking at Ed. "Edward, transmute something for me."

Ed nodded at Al, who crouched and drew the familiar circle on the ground. Al was always quick, precise, more accurate that Ed. Now his tiny, chubby fingers shook slightly as he gripped the chalk. A single tear splashed onto the dirt floor, missing the circle by a fraction of an inch. It was Ed's first clue.

In the weeks between the time the brothers found their mother collapsed on the floor and the time they crouched next to her death bed, Ed had done his best to remain upbeat, optimistic, putting on a good front to keep Al hoping along with him. Now that little shake of the hand tipped him off, told him that Al knew as well as anyone else that soon their mother would be dead.

Al pressed his hands against the circle and bowed his head in a way that made him look both very mature and very young. He kept that position for a second longer than necessary and another tear hit the ground. A flash of light later and a single rose, long and delicate, fautlessly formed, appeared in the center of the circle.

"It's perfect, Al." Even with their mother in pain Al managed to think of the right thing. Ed carefully picked up the inanimate blossom, holding it before his mother's unseeing eyes and wrapping one of her hands around it. "It's a flower, mother. A rose."

"It's beautiful, I can tell. Thank you, Hohenheim." Her eyes drifted shut again, one hand still clutching the bloom. Edward stared at her for a second, taking in her thin, sickly form and knowing then that it was a matter of hours.

"Brother?" Al's tiny plea was more moving to Ed than any amount of tears, because it voiced that he, too, was lost and looking for guidance. But while Al would always look up to Ed, Ed had no one to turn to. "Brother, mother is going to die, isn't she?" This wasn't really a question, and it came out as a sigh, not a sob, as if Al had long since resigned himself to that fact and was only now voicing his thoughts aloud.

"Yes." Ed admitted, sitting on the cold floor, knowing Al would mimic his movement. "Her body isn't strong enough for her anymore." Edward's voice wobbled a little as something opened in his mind. He was suddenly able to see a way out, a small possibility. "But we can get her back, Al. I promise."

It was stormy the night Trisha Elric passed beyond the veil. The brothers barely noticed the dozen people crowded into Aunt Pinako's tiny home, focusing instead on their mother, a small fire of energy just about to burn out.

Trisha turned, her face uncommonly, frightfully pale, and Ed felt Al's hand tighten around his, seeking protection. "Your father…he left us some money. I never touched it, I was saving it for you boys. Use it. Take care…of each other." As if she had to say that. Edward had been taking care of Alphonse since the day the younger boy was born, watching out for him, glorying in his triumphs and helplessly watching when he fell.

"Don't be stupid." Ed said, as jovially as he could muster. His voice wobbled and Al's hold turned into a surprised death grip. He wasn't the only shocked one…Ed didn't know he could cry either.

Trisha turned sightless eyes to Edward, looking through him, around him. She hadn't acknowledged Al in a week, hadn't eaten or drunk unless they made her. She was on her way out. "Edward, will you be a sweet heart and transmute something for your mother?" She paused, and neither boy moved. "Yes, I know, a ring of flowers would be nice."

She wasn't talking to them anymore. Ed turned his face away, though his grip on his mother's frail hand remained firm. Oh, how he wished their good-for-nothing father was here. "You see, your father used to make them for me."

Looking back, Ed didn't remember much of the time between her death and the funeral. Winry cried, Ed remembered that only because neither he nor the emotional Alphonse seemed to have any tears during that time. Al he could do was mull over a plan of attack…they would get their mother back…

The funeral was something different, though. Ed could no longer remain unattached, indifferent. He and Al stood in front of the grave and watched their mother's casket get lowered into the ground, a final note to say that they, for all intents and purposes, were orphans. Alone, except for each other.

Ed balled his hand into a tiny fist and bit his lip to keep from crying. He couldn't help but be proud of Al, who cried silently until his legs literally gave out from under him and he collapsed onto the ground, shaking slightly, quietly.

After the rest of the mourners left (Aunt Pinako and Winry were waiting right outside the cemetery for the brothers), Ed knelt next to Al. "C'mon, Alphonse, don't cry."

"M-mother said it was 'kay t-to cry if I was sad." Al sniffed, already leaving the tears behind. "And I'm sad that m-mother is ---"

"We'll bring her back, Al, I swear we will." Ed put an arm around Al's tiny shoulders and dragged him to his feet. "So don't be sad yet, okay?"

Al looked up at him and grabbed Ed's hand, squeezing it tightly. "Okay, brother." The simple trust, the blind faith Al placed in Ed so easily made it hard for him to swallow.

Al's trust made Ed's heart clench painfully and he squeezed the hand so hard it must have hurt, but Al said nothing, his confidence in Ed too strong to contradict anything he did. Unbeknownst to Ed, another piece of his heart fell to the ground and sat beside his mother's grave, the part that held his childhood. For from then on, Ed was an adult in every sense of the word.

**I don't know, I like writing the life-threatening stuff more, but this was a pretty important chapter. **

**Teacher's up next, then the failed resurrection…after that, who knows?**

**As always, please review. **


	6. Night on Bald Mountain

_I felt so helpless, I couldn't even bring myself to believe someone might save me. Then you showed up, Al. And I realized that if we don't take care of each other, then no one else will.__** Edward**_

Their teacher was smart and powerful. She knew more about alchemy than the boys could learn in years, and, in her own way, she cared for the brothers. But sometimes Izumi's method of teaching made Ed so frustrated that he wanted to hit something. Sometimes it made the young boy hate her.

Like that morning, when Sig shook Ed's shoulder at five in the morning. Edward had blinked up at him, then glanced out the window. The sky was dark and threatened worse weather to come; it was the type of day where you just wanted to curl up and go back to sleep. "What?" The nine-year-old murmured sleepily, already rolling over.

But he wasn't to be let go so easily. The covers were jerked away and Ed was left shivering and angry. "Izumi wants you and Alphonse downstairs in ten minutes. Be ready."

Ed was about to bite out a scathing reply, then remembered that they were indebted to Teacher for taking them as her apprentices, even if she was a little crazy. Sighing, the blond reached over and patted Al's hand. He was both pleased and sad to see the boy jerk awake, staring wide-eyed at Ed before offering a reflexive, innocent smile. "Brother?"

"We're training today, Al. Get dressed. Wear a coat." Ed said things like that automatically now, seamlessly taking over complete care of his younger brother. He didn't trust anyone else with the job.

Al, compliant as ever, got dressed quicker than Ed and straighten the bed so it looked as if he had never been there. As usual, he beat Ed downstairs by several minutes.

Izumi was waiting, car keys in hand. Ed had to bite back a groan at the sight of those keys --- they almost certainly meant an "adventure." It was their teacher's opinion, as she often reminded the boys, that they had to know more than how to clap their hands together and make something appear. They had to know philosophy, martial arts, how to live off the land they were given. Otherwise they were no use at all.

Ed had hurried into the waiting car, carrying with him the pack they used on all these training expeditions. He knew it held an extra set of clothes, matches, water, and non-perishable food. They would be set to hunker down at a camp site for about five days.

"Where are we going?" Al asked, looking eager for the assignment to start. Ed was feeling uncomfortable himself; the nagging feeling one gets when they know they've left something behind and can't remember what it was.

Izumi looked at the two through the front mirror. "Where are _you_ going. I'm not staying with you." She half-smiled and Al, not knowing what else to do, smiled timidly in return. "I'm going to drop you guys at the base of this mountain I know. I'll be at the top of the waterfall tomorrow evening, and that's the only place I'll pick you up so you better get there."

Ed grumbled and Al looked at him, startled. Seeing he was scaring his brother Ed ruffled the boy's downy hair and said nothing, though that achy, nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach refused to go away.

True to her word, Izumi left them at the base of the mountain, wishing them good luck and warning them against using alchemy. "You practice with that all week." She had said, "now live like everyone else for one night." She knew the Elrics, and she knew that they would not break their word.

"C'mon, Al." Ed said, watching the truck drive off. They looked up at the mountain, only able to see a small portion of its immense size. It was out of the way and treacherous and therefore had no beaten paths to walk on. Ed was actually glad of their short stature, as it made the going easier.

The brothers climbed in silence for an hour until Al insisted they turn to watch the sun rise. Ed flopped onto the ground, happy for a break, and reached into his pack for a bottle of water…

…Only to come out with a rock. Trying not to panic, he dug through the rest of the pack. It was filled with stones. "Alphonse, check your pack." Al blinked at him before opening his own bag. More rocks. "Damnit!" The nine-year-old swore, causing Al to squirm anxiously.

"Brother, is everything okay?"Al stood and hovered nervously, unsure of what to do.

Ed kicked a piece of bark. "No! Teacher and Sig must have repacked our bags with rocks. And they won't even take the blame because they'll say we should have checked our packs!" Edward sighed and began taking the rocks out of the bags. No need for the extra weight. He folded the material so he could slip both of them into his coat pocket. "Al, come on, we need to find some water."

The sun brought heat and bugs. Ed found himself slapping at the tiny parasites, getting more and more put off that Al didn't seem to be getting bit. "I guess they don't like my taste." The younger boy commented, trying to hold back a grin at his brother's ludicrous expression.

"And everyone calls _you _the sweet one." Ed huffed.

It was Al who took the first spill of the day. The terrain was so steep that it was bound to happen some time, and Ed could only be thankful that the first fall didn't occur until mid-morning. The two had already covered about two miles in three hours, their progress impeded by the thick foliage and the hard climb. Still, even though Ed knew it was coming, he wasn't quite prepared for the cry that tore through the peaceful drone of the wildlife.

"Brother!" Al's foot had slipped and instead of falling backwards where they had come from he had fallen to the side. Ed looked over just in time to see Al disappear over the edge of a large rock.

In the split second it took him to walk two steps, Ed could only think that he would wring Teacher's neck if Al got killed on one of her hair-brained training regimes. "Al!" Ed cried, looking down. "Are you okay?"

Luckily, the drop had only been six feel or so, but Al's still form still sent a piercing terror through Ed's heart. He quickly scrambled down and shook his brother's limp body. "Alphonse…come on, bro, open your eyes." The strange, silver-grey orbs opened for a second and Al's lips parted slightly.

"Oh." The small noise was like a breath being pushed from the body and Al gave a strangled half-cough. "I'm okay, brother." He made to sit up only to hiss in pain, and Ed could only watch as the eight-year-old's body curled in on itself in an attempt to erase the pain.

"Don't move, buddy, let me look at you…" Ed took off Al's jacked and lifted his thin shirt. Bruises were already appearing on Al's tiny chest. Ed hoped the ribs weren't broken. "You're okay. Can you stand?"

Al nodded and stood gingerly, moving slowly. He flashed Ed a small smile, and the older boy wondered if Al himself knew how much pain was in the small gesture. He would have to tell Izumi about this…he didn't care how much he got hurt during their hours of drill, but he could not take much more Al whumping.

Promising Al they'd stop at the next stream, the two toiled for another hour, gaining little altitude bug managing to put themselves on a path free of underbrush, following a small brook. The going was easier from there.

Ed was worried about Al's harsh breathing. When they had stopped for a drink at the stream Al had only taken a small sip before dissolving into coughs. "Sorry." Al had muttered when the fit was passed, and Ed wondered vaguely why Al never complained. If Ed was in pain he made sure the whole world knew it. When Al had a problem, he grew quieter, more reserved until he seemed to fold in upon himself.

The walk only got harder as they day went on. It got to the point where Ed would scramble up one of the rock faces and lean over to pick up Al, who, though only slightly smaller, could not manage the slippery climb. After one of these grabs, Ed lay panting in the dirt, looking up at the dying sun, knowing he was being burnt and not caring. He heard a loud noise from Al and looked over incredulously. "Hungry, Al?"

Too mannerly to say yes when he knew there was no way to get any food, Al merely shrugged, folding his small hands over his stomach. Ed was hungry, too, after missing both breakfast and climbing all day. He knew that, even though it felt like his belly was caving in on itself, they'd be fine for the night since they'd stayed near the stream. But Al was only a baby…a baby who'd been through way too much in the past few months.

"I'm sorry." Was all Ed could think of saying, wishing food would magically appear. Al shrugged again and got to his feet. Ed noticed the wobble in his legs and the hitch in his breath and, also, the determination in his eyes. Al would finish this. Ed just wondered what part of himself the little boy would leave behind.

As the sun set the temperature dropped and Ed noticed a huge mistake. When Al had fallen and Ed had checked for injuries, they'd left the coat. "Damnit." Ed swore to himself. They'd made camp for the night at a place, to Ed's reckoning, slightly more than two-thirds of the way up the mountain. He was proud of the climb, prouder still that Al had managed it without a word of complaint.

Al was clad in hand-me-downs, from the worn T-shirt to the faded jeans and hole-dotted shoes. He's have blisters the next day. Already his small body was shaking with cold. He looked miserable.

"Get closer to the fire, Al, I'll hold you." They scooted so close to the fire that little dancing ashes landed on their arms, burning into the skin. Still, Al's body was cold…so cold. "We'll be okay."

Later that night, when the moon was resting full and orange low in the sky, Ed woke with a jerk. Something was different…something was wrong.

Al's breathing filled the night. The boy's eyes were wide and glaring, glowing in the light of the smoldering fire. "Bro…" was all Al could get out, his tiny hands frantically patting Ed's shoulder, hoping for relief.

Edward pulled Al close to him and lay his head against the bruised chest. Something was wrong…it was like Al's heart wasn't beating fast enough. Al's already cold fingers were tinged with blue…his lips were turning purple.

"No! Alphonse, shh…it's okay." But how could it be okay? How could anything be okay when Ed felt like his spirit was being ripped in two, dying with Al's own struggling heart. "Just breathe…." Ed rocked Al back and forth, wincing at every breath, feeling the heart beat grow slower….

_Can alchemy fix this? _Ed wondered. But he dare not perform alchemy directly on his brother's body…he was too unskilled, and would probably end up killing him…faster. _If only teacher were here!_

They fell into a kind of trance that night, Al struggling to keep alive as one of his ribs rested directly over his heart, Ed struggling to keep sane as Al fought what seemed to be a losing battle. He whispered wishes that would have been prayers if he believed in a God, hoping that the eight-year-old child would survive to see the next sun rise.

When he stirred after skimming beneath the surface of sleep, Ed let out the breath he'd been holding all night. Al was still shivering, still deathly cold, still breathing irregularly and in pain, but he was alive. Though Ed was loathe to awaken the sleeping boy, he gently nudged Al out of his pseudo-sleep.

Ed cringed at Al's cry of pain but didn't know what else to do. Though he doubted Teacher would really abandon them to wander the forest, he knew that the fastest way to medical help --- and Ed was convinced that Al needed that at this point --- was to somehow get to the top of the mountain.

Again, they started to climb, Al occasionally giving little moans of pain that he did his best to conceal. It didn't matter how often Al assured the blond he was okay…Ed's heart was being mangled knowing that Al's own muscle was constricted, close to giving out.

"Come on, Al, just a little farther." They were four hundred feet from the top of the mountain. They hadn't eaten for two days and had climbed nearly three thousand feet straight up, covered more than that with their zig-zagging path.

Al stopped, eyeing the climb, "I'm hungry." He murmured, but Ed knew he really meant _I'm hurting. _

"You'll be okay." _I hope._

In the end, Al passed out, though from exhaustion or pain Ed didn't care to tell. He only knew that the last fifty feet over wet and treacherous rocks were the hardest, and not because he was carrying his fifty-pound brother over his back.

For those last fifty feet, Ed could only hope that when Teacher came Al could wake up, and in those last fifty feet, that last hour before safety and help came to them, Ed realized that he wasn't really sure of anything at all.

**Poor, poor Edward. I love just making stuff up, but the time for that is ending. **

**Would love to do more teacher, but next up is the transmutation. Dun Dun Dun. **

**As always, please review. **


	7. All You Need Is Love?

"_When you think about it, making a life's expensive. You have to give something up." __**Alphonse**_

Although Edward holds fast to the fact that his heart did, indeed, seize up in his chest twenty times in his very young, rough life, he has to make an exception for That Day. That Day, his heart stopped altogether. After That Day, Ed was never quite sure when, or, indeed, if, it had ever really, truly, beaten again.

They had planned it so carefully. _He_ had planned it so carefully. Against his will, he had looked back on the weeks leading up to That Day and realized, to his chagrin, his loathing, that Al had, as always, followed humbly along, his heart not really into the whole process. Only once had Al said anything against the plan, just before they drew the circle.

"Edward?" Sometimes, Ed forgot that Al was nine, that he was just a kid, that his hands were once chubby and soft and vulnerable. But Ed turned to Al now, because it was the first time Ed ever remembered Al using his given name. It was also the last. "Are you sure about this?" Even as he spoke he carefully drew a small line in the circle, rubbing at the ground until the chalk formed a straight, smooth stroke.

"Of course, don't wimp out on me now, Al!" Those were the words that made Ed flinch years after he said them, because they were snapped, fiery and hurting, out of his mouth. Because they made Al visibly wince before going back to the circle.

He always regretted those words, the last said to his younger brother while he was in flesh form, if you discounted the instructions Ed had so quickly dolled out, eager to see their mother, so sure, too sure, of their abilities. Just before they began the transmutation That Day, Al had slipped his tiny hand into Ed's and squeezed hard.

Ed pulled away and glared at him.

Al whimpered slightly, then offered his finger. They had had been so naïve, sure that a small tribute of blood would appease those angry spirits of the World Beyond the Gate.

They had been beyond stupid. This was an obsession bordering on desperation. Edward, ten and wiser than his years, yearned for his mother's soft presence, her easy, calming guidance. He wished for a mother for Al, who, though he seemed confident and sure around Ed, easily became flustered in crowds. It was a simple wish, a young wish.

"This is our blood, from her blood. That's a fair trade." That's all Alchemy was, really, bartering, a game, seeing who could offer up more, who was the better at haggling over a price both parties knew was fixed anyway. Ed had known the first law at birth, and lived his entire life by it.

_Human kind cannot give anything without first giving something in return. _And weren't they? They were giving their blood, their hearts, their wishes, their innocence. That should have been enough. _To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is the first law of equivalent exchange. _

Though Ed tried not to dwell on those memories, they haunted him, came to him crying in the dead of the night. That was when he heard his brother scream as he had never done, before or since.

"I think something is going wrong!" Al's uneasy voice sounded from somewhere behind Ed, too transfixed on the sight of the transmutation suddenly gone awry to pay any attention. Until the scream.

"Brother!" Al's scream shredded at Ed's heart, tore it from its recess and left in its place a still, terrible replication. Even as he lunged his leg was ripped from him, taken as a price, as lesson. "Brother, please!"

"Al!" This could not be the end. Not now, here with no other companions, orphaned and friendless. "Al!" Ed reached, and tried to grab, hoping for the strength to hold on.

His fingers missed, he grabbed air, watched numbly as the most important person in his life was ripped away from him into an abyss. Later, Al said that that was his last human memory, watching Ed reach for him, eyes wide, frantic, pleading.

But Ed knew better. Al's last memory was the same as Ed's from that same night. Pain. Excruciating, mind-boggling, emotional and physical, a terrible agony as he'd never experienced. That was Al's last memory, something he endured through long years of toil. A burden he carried without complaint.

As Ed didn't acknowledge the Gate until much later, he tended to gloss over that part even more in his memories until it had been erased completely. It was only when he was older, and in desperate need, that he dared examine those moments in the In Between place.

Ed never remembered using his arm as a bartering tool, trying to entice the entity living within the circle to give him back that thing that was most precious. Winry had asked, once, and so had Mustang, but Ed held fast to his line that he didn't remember, he was too distraught, too stressed, had lost too much blood. For a while, he almost believed this.

"I'm sorry, Al." God, the moment the armor that had become his baby brother stirred, it was like…like someone had pumped breath back into his body. Never mind the lost arm and leg. Then, and during their quests, the auto mail he wore was merely a small afterthought. Getting Al back…retrieving his brother after their colossal, terrible mistake…that was the important thing.

Perhaps Al might have been more terrified of his body if Ed hadn't been breathing on the floor. Perhaps not. Though Al occasionally rebelled quietly to his metal body, and expressed doubts of his soul's well-being, he was, as ever, not among those dissenters who relished in complaints. Like Ed.

The journey to Winry's took, to Ed's feverish mind, mere minutes, or perhaps as long as several days. Time seemed to stretch before him as Al's suddenly large body, long stride, put their house and that thing they had called back in place of their mother quickly behind, leaving only a trail of blood and tears in their wake. They would go back to their childhood home only once, and that was to burn it to the ground.

All this time, Ed's heart pumped feverishly in his chest, trying to announce its presence once again. But Ed was never again to trust his heart to remain immobile in his chest. He had given it up along with his arm in exchange for that which he held most dear. To him, the price had not been too great.

Al told him later that that night was the first time Mustang visited, holding a soggy letter that they had addressed to their dad. In typical Mustang fashion, he had expressed, not his relief that the boys were, miraculously, alive, but reluctant, grudging admiration of their alchemic talents. Ed dismissed this fact as trivial, though it was this small occurrence that ended up shaping the rest of their lives.

Perhaps it's not fair to link That Day with the next months, but to Ed that year had the same blur of pain and anger that had pushed him to the events of That Day.

And, like That Day, he linked the minute fractures of his pseudo-heart into one long train of abuse to that particular muscle. Like the day he had told Al he was getting automail.

The two brothers had been sitting quietly together. Al had carried him to Mother's grave and placed him gently on the ground next to it. Al was the only person allowed to carry Ed and still the older brother was amazed at the younger one's size…his strength.

Ed carefully wiped some dirt out of a crevice in one of the words. With his good hand. His arm stump, his useless bit of leg, were no good to him now. "It can't go on like this, Al."

"Hmm?" Al had laid a bunch of wildflowers at the base of the stone and was staring at them intently. Before, Al might have cried here. Now he couldn't.

"I need automail, Alphonse, you know that. You can't carry me around everywhere." Ed touched the armor's arm, trying to imagine Al, tiny, lonely, scared, trapped somewhere inside. The rage he felt at that thought it what sustained him then, what sustained him through all those years. His only brother was stuck living with Ed's mistake. How was that fair?

"I could carry you, Brother. You know I don't mind."

Ed smiled, another thing Al's inadequate body couldn't do. It was a sad expression. "I know, Al. But I need to do this. We need to get your body back."

"And your limbs." Al would always shoot this back at him every time Ed mentioned his body.

Ed stated at him for a second. "Thank you, Al." He murmured, comforted to know that there was someone to look after him. Comforted, but it was unnecessary. "But it's not your burden to bear."

"Yes it is." Came the quiet reply from somewhere within the armor. Ed had let that small sentence go and leaned against Al, imagining that his strong metal body was enough to protect both of them from the entire world, even though that tiny muscle in his chest contracted, knowing that there would be no rest for them, not for many years.

The day finally came where the automail was attached to Ed's limbs. The procedure was delicate, difficult, painful beyond belief.

Winry had slipped an aged piece of leather between Ed's teeth. "So you don't bite your tongue." She explained. Her eyes were worried, sympathetic. She removed it as they were attaching the smaller nerves, when Ed had become so used to the pain he was nearly numb to it.

"I'm surprised, Edward. Even adults scream during this part of the operation." Aunt Pinako's musings brought Ed back to himself. He had been staring at Winry's small fingers, marveling at their strength, their instincts.

Ed shrugged at the words, "This is nothing," he bit out through teeth gritted against the pain. "Compared to what _he_ gave up." Ed looked towards the door where Al had tried to enter so many times during the operation.

For the next four years, Ed would be one of the few able to look at Al without fear, or curiosity, or dismissal. For the next four years, Al wouldn't be able to sleep, eat, smile, or move without clanking. He also wouldn't be able to get stabbed, shot, or bleed to death.

Some said that Al was the perfect soldier. He might as well have been in the military. He was around it, in the battles, often enough. But every time Al said that he was twelve, or thirteen, the person would get this look across their face. In time Ed came to know the look, and to hate it, a mixture or pity and relief, that something that terrible had not happened to them.

**We couldn't even begin to explain why we love this story. The characters are just so **_**deep**_**.**

**As always, please, please review. **


	8. Test Anxiety

"_If you think about it, making a life is pretty expensive." __**Alphonse**_

Living with the Sewing Life Alchemist was as close to being home as the Elric's had had for a long, long time.

It wasn't that Shou Tucker was a cuddly bear or anything. Far from it. Though the man was not adverse to hugging his daughter in the morning or staying up late with the boys, reminiscing about his more interesting exploits with the State, he was most often found locked in his room, concocting a new experiment.

It was Nina, the tiny five-year-old who inhabited the house nearly alone, wandering through the corridors with Alexander, that warmed the cold heart in Edward's chest. She was spunky, bright, ambitious, and had no intention of ever learning the alchemy that her father so often employed.

"Do you like Alchemy, Nina? I could teach you a little, if you want." Alphonse was a giving soul, and a patient teacher. He spent of his day keeping Nina busy and away from Ed, who was studying, and her father. The two of them played together and Alphonse was teaching the young girl to cook.

Ed looked up from his book, listening for Nina's answer. The girl seemed delighted whenever the brothers made use of their talents, but had never pursued the subject.

"No. Can bigger brother make me another dolly?" Al made beautiful toys, and never got tired of creating the objects for the little girl's amusements. When Ed played with her, as he did whenever he couldn't stand to look at another sentence beginning with the word 'transmutation', his creations turned out to be lopsided, or missing limbs, and Al would inevitably replace it with one of his spectacular dolls.

Al created another doll form the dark red Earth and then conjured up a figure of a large bear that he held in his own hands. He made the bear move towards the doll, uttering strangled roars.

Ed smiled from his position across the room. It was sometimes hard to remember that Al was only eleven, and should still be playing with toys. A few months ago they had taken on a train full of renegades armed to the teeth.

Idly, Ed flipped another page in the book. He was looking for an example of a demonstration of alchemy that he could replicate to impress whatever judges would be there. His mind, and the books, were totally unhelpful.

As Ed watched, Al took Nina's hands and placed them on the edge of the circle, letting her feel the power coursing through the Earth as he made one last doll.

"Look!" Nina cried, running over to Ed, arms full of figurines. "This is me," she placed a doll that looked remarkably like herself on the couch, "and you, Little Big Brother," this one was undoubtedly Ed, form the small tuft of hair sticking up from the top of his head to the smirk on the side of his face, "Daddy," she laid down a tall man doll, his head cocked to the side, "Alexander," a dog, beautiful, slender, easily fitting into the girl's arms, "and a mommy, only I told Bigger Brother she didn't look like my mommy. That's okay. It's a pretend family."

The mother indeed did not look like the picture's of Nina's mother that both boys had seen periodically throughout the large house. In fact, she looked like an entirely different woman. Ed glanced at Al, who was holding the bear and staring at it.

"They're beautiful dolls, Nina." Al was very good at making them --- they were more ornate, more elaborate than anything Ed had ever made. "But where's Al?"

"Hmm?" Nina could not be blamed for having the attention span of a five year old. Already she was playing with her make-believe family, oblivious to Al's disappearance.

"Al?" This was addressed to his brother, who stood up, clanking as he went. "You didn't make one of yourself."

"I know." Al put his hand in the pocket of the apron that covered his metal body and pulled out a tiny doll. This was another boy, a little taller than the one of Ed. The spitting image of Al's old self.

"I couldn't make one for this body, brother." Al's voice trembled a little, but it was quiet enough that Nina didn't notice. "I don't want to remember this."

The figure had somehow ended up in Ed's hand and he turned it over, brushing his fingers along the contours of Al's old body. "I'm sorry, Alphonse," he murmured to the clay body in his hand, and as he handed the doll back to its maker, he found that he had squished it slightly. Almost broken it. Al mended this by plying the malleable substance back in place with his fingers before handing the extra doll to Nina on the floor.

"You want to make a dollhouse, Nina? We need to let Big Brother study." Al deftly scooped Nina into his arms, toys and all, and transported her down the hall, Alexander trailing behind. "You know, you don't have to use alchemy, Nina. My old teacher always said we should make things ourselves. You can build the house with me."

Ed found himself staring after the two of them, thinking of the clay figure of his little brother. Al was so young, too young to have all his dreams taken away from him. Like when they'd first gotten to Central, moving in the only direction of hope they had, a new dream on the horizon. Both boys studied so hard to become State Alchemists.

"_I didn't expect both of you to make it." _Ed never knew what to think about that comment. Did it imply that Al was, as the saying went, all brawn and no brain? Because he was so much more than that. Compassionate. Loyal. Caring. Good. Too good for his own well-being sometimes.

And Al had stood there, his hulking mass slumped forward, _"But…I've worked so hard!" _It was unfair that Al had to drop out because of his body, because of something Ed had trapped him in. Whatever Al said, that was Ed's blame, his cross to bear forever.

So Ed watched Al clank around the house, Nina sometimes at his side, sometimes on his shoulders, occasionally in his arms. He made her a dollhouse out of wood and Nina's tiny fingers were able to furnish the places Al's too-big ones couldn't reach. The two made the meals, Al teaching Nina all he knew about cooking, even though he never got to enjoy the fruits of their labors.

"Soon, Brother and I will be gone. He'll be a State Alchemist, and I'm going to go with him, wherever that will be. So you have to learn how to make these nice things for you and your daddy, okay?" Al didn't know that Ed heard this assertion of faith, but it moved Ed to think that Al already knew he'd be a State Alchemist.

There were more memories of Nina and the Sewing Life Alchemist, one where the brothers faced true evil for the first time. But the next memory Edward Elric had of his heart staying still, chill, in his chest was the night after he had become a State Alchemist. That night, Al had sat up in his bed and turned to him Ed.

"I don't want to be in this suit anymore." It was the first admittance, after a year of being trapped in the metal body, of Al's discomfort. "I want to feel things again. It's strange. I've been next to you all this time, but I can't remember what your skin feels like or how you smell."

Ed didn't speak, he couldn't. He was so guilty, so angry at his own incompetence. It was another thing his studies had taught him --- exactly how much he'd screwed Al's life up by putting him in that terrible armor.

"I'm thankful, brother, for you thinking so quickly, but…it _hurts_ in here." Ed buried his face in the sheets, feeling tears leak from his eyes as his heart crumbled to dust.

He's always thought…or pretended to think…that Al was better off in his metal body than dead. That bringing him back from the In Between Place had been an act of mercy, not selfishness. But he knew, even if Al never said, that his brother was always in agony, always hungry, always tired.

"Maybe now that you're a State Alchemist we'll be able to find some answers. This can only help our journey…brother? Are you asleep?" Ed didn't bother to correct him. He couldn't talk, anyway. The lump in his throat had grown so much he couldn't swallow past it, and as he rolled onto his stomach, he could feel what had to be his heart breaking to pieces.

Al's voice was soft, and Ed realized that he was half-talking to himself, half-praying. Al couldn't sleep…he never slept, not since That Day. Sometimes Ed would wake up to find his bed neatly made and Al in the library, or the kitchen. More often than that, though, the younger boy would spend the long night with Ed, making sure he was safe, and that he, at least, could sleep. It seemed that, these days, Ed slept enough for the both of them.

"I love you, brother." Al was saying his voice sad. "I love you more than anything. But I'm dying. I can feel it, every time I move. And sometimes it makes me wonder…what if I'm dead already? And what if you can't save me this time?"

**Poor Al, he's feeling a little down in the dumps. **

**Please, please review. **


	9. Disappointments

"_It's no use, kid, you can't go around bringing every living thing that dies around you back to life. It's not possible and it's not healthy." __**Mustang**_

There were a few times in Ed's life when he knew that he had let his brother down.

Like the time, when they were perhaps three or four, when they had gone scavenging for food after not eating more than hot water with a few herbs for several long, bleak days. They were in the woods behind their house, where game was abundant. Both boys, even at that young age, knew the basics of trapping animals, and had set up a small cage, hoping for a squirrel, a turtle, a fox…

They waited, crouched in the bushes, the thrill of the game heightened by the promise to eat. "What do you think it will be, bwodder?" Al asked, his lips chapped even the summer, his voice small.

"A turtle." Ed had whispered back, watching the trap intently. "A nice big one with a shell that we can use as a pot. Mom will make it into a stew, and use all of her plants to make it taste good."

Al nodded, serious as always, contemplating this. "I want to eat some meat." Al had commented, his stomach rumbling, making a noise loud enough to halt all of the cries of the forest.

"Geeze, Al, be quiet!" Edward hissed, poking his younger brother, who hung his head in shame. They both settled back down, waiting.

It wasn't a turtle who came to the trap, sniffing at the meager feast of leaves, acorns, and flowers. It was a rabbit, beautiful and covered in white, silky fur. It lowered its head to the flowers and nibbled, oblivious to the trap shutting tight behind it.

Ed stood, a thick stick in his hand. At five, the boy knew exactly where to hit a rabbit in order to kill it. But a hand had reached out, scared, imploring. "Bwodder, no."

"Aren't you hungry, Al? Now let go of me." He shrugged Al's grip easily, ignoring his cry behind him as he lifted the cage and delivered a killing blow to the rabbit with one fell swoop.

"Oh, Bwodder." Al had sighed, tears leaking from his eyes as he touched the rabbit, running a pudgy hand along its smooth body. "She's dead."

"And we're going to eat her." Ed had proclaimed, the whipping the rabbit away and turning before the tears had fallen to the ground, marking the exact spot where the rabbit had died. That night, and the next, when Ed and his mother ate the rabbit, Al ate nothing, staring at Ed with large eyes that told him that he had done the wrong thing. He had thought of himself over the life of a rabbit, and had taken that life. From that day until Izumi left them on the island, Al didn't hunt with Edward.

Now, though, with Shau Tucker pinned up against the wall under his own hand, Ed felt the worst. Al was too innocent, too trusting, to guess what Ed had come to know as true. Squeezing shut his eyes, the small blond tried not to remember the two friends in the hallways of the Tucker's huge mansion.

Al had taught Nina how to cook. He had taught her to make a dollhouse and tiny dolls to go along with it. Together, the pair had taught Alexander how to roll over, to play dead, to follow them like a shadow. And Nina had shown Al that, even without a mother around, you can still turn out fine.

"Brother!' Al's cry always meant that Ed had gone too far, that the younger boy was trying to reel him in and act rationally. Ed never could listen to him.

Seething, Ed knocked Tucker against the wall again. "This guy used his own wife, Al." Behind him, Al gasped, as if he was actually drawing in air. As if he was actually human. His voice emanated, small and scared, not wanting an answer, from the depths of the armor. "And…and this time?"

"His daughter." Ed raged, his anger too much for him. "And his dog. An easy process when you use people, right?" He shoved Tucker against the wall again. He'd stayed with this man for over a year. He'd thought he'd gotten to know him. But all Tucker was after was money, power.

"Why are you getting so upset, Edward?" Ed shook his head, trying not to think of all the different things wrong with that question, "It is the nature of the scientific process. Animal testing, trial and error. All advancements come with a price."

"I'm not going to let you rationalize this, you monster. That was your own family, damnit, you've been toying with people's lives!" And that was why Edward was so upset, why he couldn't get over this error of judgment. He'd given up everything in an attempt to get his mother back. Everything that was important to him was ripped away. And Tucker had aided in his family's demise, had been the reason for it.

Edward was guilty of being a scared child without his mother and a responsibility as large as a child weighing on him. Tucker was guilty of murder out of ambition.

"Toying with people's lives," Tucker laughed the maniacal laughter of one insane, "What, like your arm and leg or your brother's body?" Ed hated it when someone mentioned Al, the walking proof of his guilt, the metal testament to his own greed. "That's toying, isn't it? You don't really think you're any different from me, do you Ed?"

And that's when Ed lost all control. He forgot about Alchemy, forgot he was a puny twelve-year-old while Tucker was a full sized adult. He forgot that he was standing in the scientist's lab, where he'd drawn alchemic circles that could probably kill. All Ed knew was that he was being compared to someone who bared no resemblance to himself.

He was completely different. He'd tried to resurrect his mother because he was young and stupid and scared and thought that he was invincible because he could play with a little alchemy. Ed saw red because he'd learned from his mistake, learned that when you wanted something that badly, you didn't mind risking it all. And it wasn't worth the price, not even a little.

But Tucker had already used his wife as bait, had already transformed the person he'd claimed to love into a part-beast creature. Ed saw red, because he remembered the last words of the chimera, as told to him by Hughes, "I want to die."

He saw red because he was reminded every day of his mistake, knew every day that he had done a terrible deed. He was reminded every time Al opened his mouth, something quietly profound inevitably coming out. Al never blamed him, not once. He saw red because Tucker had used an innocent five year old to gain a year in the State's favor.

And that was why he couldn't stop, not until a voice called out, scared, "Brother!"

Al was his conscious, walking and talking. Al could always tell when he'd taken something too far. And when Ed heard that word, screamed over the cries of Tucker, the barks of the twisted, terrible Nina/Alexander thing, he was five again.

"Oh, Bwodder," Al had said, his voice a sigh, disappointed, exactly the same as now, "She's dead."

"You'll kill him!" Al wrenched his arm back from Tucker's blood soaked body, bringing Ed to his chest as if he weighed no more than a small animal. "Stop it, Brother!"

_Brother_. If Ed could have a nickel every time Al said that word…well, they could probably _buy_ the Philosopher's Stone with that kind of gold. But that word, that one tiny word, the first one Al ever learned how to say, was the thing that stopped Ed from killing Tucker.

Al was disappointed in Ed. It was hard not to be disappointed when your idols fail you, and Al had been hero-worshipping Ed since they were children. His disappointment radiated from his cold armor, from every one of his precise moves, from his clipped speech.

That hurt Ed more than any beating or amount of flames ever would. It hurt Ed more than seeing a five-year-old blown to pieces that night, her body covering the ground. It hurt Ed more than knowing that she was better off that way, and hating himself for thinking it, and crying at the thought, crying for the first time since Al had been taking from him.

It hurt Ed, and made his heart leap, skip, and tumble in his chest before finally stopping dead in its tracks, because it meant that Al, who had grown up so much in a few short years, would never be a child again, because he'd never have a hero to look up to. Ed had disappointed his favorite person in the world, and for the eighth time in his young, terrible, chaotic life, his heart stopped.

**Review?**


	10. Vigilante

"_We just have to live and be content while we can." __**Edward**_

"This time I have an attack made just for you!"

It was Al who went forward, who lunged at Scar to deter him from reaching Ed, more vulnerable to any of Scar's attacks. Ed could follow his reasoning, that he was made of metal, that Scar had done so little damage the last time the two had come into contact.

So Al ran forward and cut across, a huge, sweeping motion that took down most any foe he'd come across in the past few years. He, who used to be so good at alchemy, who could transmute as fast as Ed, rarely used the art anymore. Why bother, when with just one swipe he could take down any antagonist?

But Scar's cry made Ed's legs turn to jelly, and when Al's body got blown apart, when his arm was distintegrated and his body crushed, Ed's heart stopped beating in his chest.

Because…and he should have figured this out earlier…there was still a way for Al to die. He was much more impervious to that last dark horse than Ed, who could be felled by beast or man, guns and poison, but he could still be killed, the last of his soul ripped from the inadequate metal body, if the transmutation ruin was broken.

Ed's eyes went wide, nearly popped from his skull as Al was thrown across the alley as if he were actually a thirteen-year-old boy and not three-hundred-pounds of heavy metal. And when Al skidded to a stop, his head hitting the brick of a building with a hollow thud, Ed was sure, for the first time in years, that Al was dead.

He screamed as his heart broke, tore down the middle and shredded in parts again. Al wasn't moving, had stopped moving when Scar put his arm on his body. Which could only mean he was…

Ed lunged, blinded by loss and grief and so much anger. He forgot that he was a dog of the state, that he had sworn to do no harm, that Dr. Marco was still gaping on the other side of the alley. All he knew was the most important thing in his life had just been blown up before his eyes.

Scar grasped his hand, held it there with a strength that was surprising. Few people could catch his metal arm, let alone hold it still while he was in such a rage. "By clasping your hands you make an array with your body and circulate the alchemic reaction within. I know your secret and without this sinful arm you can't transmute quickly. That is your weakness."

And Ed watched as his arm was blown to bits. Pain lasted for only an instant before the automated nerve endings were fried, and Ed was left staggering back by the force of the blow, landing on his stomach, too winded and defeated to move.

"Brother!" But that was impossible. Al's body had been blown up, his seal crushed. He couldn't be calling to him. He couldn't… "Get up brother! Run! Get out of here!"

As if he could. As if Ed were made to leave his little brother behind as a plaything for Scar. He was, as the Ishbalan had pointed out, a sin against nature. There was no way he'd survive in a fight against such blind faith, not with half a body.

Ed staggered upright, doing so only out of deference to his brother. He would not, could not, die in the alley like a coward, huddling in a puddle and waiting for the worst to be over. He'd promised, after all. He'd promised to get Al's body back.

And damnit, he couldn't break that promise!

"I will give you a moment to pray." The low voice could have been sincere if there wasn't that implication, silent, lethal, behind the words. _And then I'll kill you_.

Ed stared at the ground, holding his torn arm as if to keep non-existant blood from pouring. It was an immediate reaction, genetic. "Thanks for the gesture." He spat out, glancing at Al. The metal mouth was open, the only emotion the armor allowed Al to show. "But I don't believe. Stopped a long time ago."

A sudden thought hit and he again looked at Al, winging a silent prayer to a God he'd denounced not three seconds ago. "Back in the tunnel, you told me you had an older brother, right?"

"Correct Fullmetal." That voice was so measured, condescending, but now something like anger, hurt, betrayal slipped into the words. Not unlike the emotions Ed himself was feeling. "He was killed by a state alchemist."

Ed could almost relate, almost sympathize, but this guy had killed Nina and plenty of other people. He deserved nothing. "Well, I'm the oldest brother." He couldn't look at Al, just down at the ground, unable to bear the boy's reaction. "So take my life and go. That's an equivalent exchange don't you think?"

"No!" Al couldn't understand, couldn't know what Ed had felt in those moments when he'd been forced to endure without the bright spark of a boy, in those minutes before the Gate. "You just said yourself, a life doesn't equal a life!"

"You stay out of this, Al!" Ed called, ferocity snapping into his voice as his heart fell to the ground with the rain, breaking not for his own fate but for his brother's. No brother should have to live without the other. It wasn't fair.

Ed looked up at Scar. "He's not a State Alchemist I should be enough." He closed his eyes, trying to ignore Al's cries, his pleas.

Scar examined him. "I promise before God I won't hurt your brother." And for some reason, Ed believed him, believed that he wouldn't go back on his word. Maybe because he knew taking Ed from Al was more damage than he or his arm could ever inflict.

"But you should listen to him, Fullmetal. One life does not equal another. There is nothing in this world that can equal the loss of my brother and my people. Nothing will make it easier to bear."

Maybe they were alike, in a strange way. Because Ed knew that nothing would be ever equal the pain of losing Al. Not his severed arm and leg, not his automail, not watching countless people die. He'd lost his heart to Al, and pieces kept crumbling into oblivion.

He wondered if Scar had lost his heart with his brother. If he'd cared that much. "Why are you murdering all those people?" He really couldn't understand. Maybe he and Scar had had the same trigger point, maybe they cared just as much, but Ed could never go around killing people in some vigilante form of justice.

"Brother?" Even in his grief, Al couldn't refer to Ed by anything else. God, he'd miss that, more than anything else, he'd miss being Al's brother. "Brother, what are you doing, get out of here!" Ed couldn't even look at Al. He felt so wrong, so terrible, but he coudlnt' take it back. Not if it meant that Al could live. "

"We're all we've got, remember? We're all we've got!"

Something like tears slid down Ed's cheeks, except that he cried so rarely he couldn't quite recognize them anymore. _I'm sorry, Al_, he thought, feeling Scar's hand on his head.

"I can't do this." Al's plea nearly made Ed lose his resolve, and broke his heart again. For the last time. "No!"

The last word came out as Scar's hand turned red, as Ed felt the power of alchemy float about him. _Al_. He thought, giving the last of his heart to his little brother.

And then all Hell broke loose.

**The dialogue at the end of that episode is our absolute favorite but it just didn't fit.**

**As always, please review.**


	11. Fire With Fire

"_I may be empty…but not worthless." __**Alphonse Elric**_

"Their lives have no meaning in this disembodied state."

But Ed couldn't believe that, couldn't, because that would make him a murderer, instead of a savior, a boy doing a selfish deed instead of a loving brother trying to make a deal. And he knew, he knew because Al himself had told him, that his little brother, his baby brother, was in pain in the armor. He knew, which is why he had to set things right.

"No meaning?" he murmured, looking in the red, the red like blood floating in containers, in the wall, and saw a boy, Al, staring at him with that look of adoration, hero-worship, he'd worn every day of his life, still wore, in his voice, in his deeds. "I can't believe that."

"But Hell…" he climbed to the top of the nearest canister, the one with Al's face in it. It was a long climb if you were four foot nine. "Your life has value, even in this state…" He was speaking to the mask on the floor, ripped apart from his own beloved brother.

And that was how that horrible, wretched, indescribable night took a new turn, with Ed doing everything he could to make a new Philosopher's stone, anything he could to take his mind off of Al. _Al_. Who must be worried sick at this point, who had probably contacted Mustang, who was waiting outside of the laboratory even as Ed planned and plotted, ready to use ex-human's lives in order to achieve his goal.

But then…everything came crashing down. Literally. Envy, Lust, Gluttony, though he didn't know their names then, plus his old mentor, the Sewing Life Alchemist, Shou Tucker, all there to witness his mistake as the ceiling caved in and fifty-odd prisoners fell from the sky.

And Al. Al, who wasn't outside, watching, waiting, as always, for Ed to come out safe and alive so they could move on to the next phase. Al, who, like Slicer and Homicide, was encased in armor, trapped.

_It hurts in here, brother_. Ed would always be sorry, always be atoning for that sin of making sure his brother was in perpetual pain.

Al was lying on the floor, arms gone, legs gone, unable to do anything about the proceedings. Just looking at the stripped armor made Ed wince, wondering where the missing limbs had gone to, how Al had been beaten (tricked?) into submission.

Their eyes locked across the floor, even as Lust spoke, as Gluttony stood sentinel. Ed stared into the hollow sockets, reading what was behind the emotionless mask. He could feel emotions rolling off his brother in waves, mostly, and this was a new one for Al, usually so optimistic, upbeat, confusion. And anger. And pain. Always pain.

They needed to get out of this one, that way Ed could explain everything. Meeting up with Slicer and Homicide had taught him that there were more things like Al out there, things like his brother yet different. He needed to talk to Al, and make sure, make quite sure, that Al was ready, willing, to keep fighting.

He believed that Al had a soul, had a heart, trapped in the body by the seal he'd made three years ago with his own blood. He had to believe that, or else he would have nothing. Nothing.

"It's an equivalent exchange," Lust was explaining, her voice modulated, lilting, sounding like nails on a board to Ed's ears. How he hated that voice. "I'm willing to tell you everything you need to know about how to make a Philosopher's Stone."

And wasn't that what he's been waiting, searching, hoping for? He'd scoured every library, every book, looking for a way out of the deal, out of the bonds of, exactly as Lust had mentioned, equivalent exchange. But now that the information within his grasp, he couldn't reach for it. Couldn't, because now he knew that evil had a face, and it was very beautiful.

"And in return," already Ed was hardening, waiting for the blow, "You will use it to turn all of us into humans."

It was such an odd request, made more perplexing than the many questions they'd been fielding lately about Al, about the 'perfect soldier', about their terrible, accidental discovery of eternal life. Why would these…things, these homunculi…want to be human at all, since most people wanted exactly what they had: immortality.

He sighed, trying to figure out how to refuse the offer without dying, and glanced at Al. Al, his baby brother who had lost so much That Day, much more than he, Ed, had had to give up. Al, who remained by his side for three years of dead ends, rooting for him when he went to take the alchemy exam even though Al himself could have passed it in flying colors. Al, who was a much better person, more caring and loving and kind, than Ed could ever hope to be.

Al deserved a body, deserved a life, more than anyone Ed could think of. He tilted his head, refusing to look at the homunculi, at his brother, helpless. He stared at the ground instead. "And why," he questioned, keeping his voice just as measured as Lust's, "should I trust you?"

"Oh but you misunderstand me Fullmetal. We're not asking. We're telling." Ed's head jerked up in time to see her grab the helmet…Slicer. Though the…Ed had to use the word man, if only to follow his own logic…had tried to kill him, Ed felt something for the mass-murderer. He drew in a breath, watched as Lust placed a long finger right over the ruin, "Do have any idea what will happen to an attached soul when you do this?" She moved the finger.

Moans of pain, suppressed agony, permeated the silent room. Ed twisted in indignation, rage, "Stop it, you can't do that! He's another human being!" Human being, like Homicide, like his brother, like the prisoners waiting to be made into a stone that could have returned all of them to their bodies.

"Edward Elric…" Ed strained to hear the words, "I want you to…" Lust sliced the helmet in half, destroying the seal, killing the unkillable.

Then, even more alarmingly, she got up off of Al's body. It was one of those out-of-body experiences, where you can see what's happening, guess what's to come, and be powerless to stop it. Like a car accident, a gunshot. Lust placed her finger on Al's blood seal…Ed's blood.

When Ed heard Al's tiny gasp of air, a gasp of surprise, of _pain_, that's when his heart stopped cold in his chest, when it shriveled and turned to ice.

"This won't take long."

Ed was on his knees, struggling past the hurts he'd sustained that evening to get to the most precious thing in the world. She could take away Al's life with a press of her finger, a power no one else had had in the past three years. His heart turned black, still.

"No!" His scream was not his own, it was low, primal, a wail from another century, another time. Agony as simple and complex as had been around since the beginning of time. "Please don't hurt him!"

He didn't' hang his head, stared straight at Lust as he pleaded, begged for his brother's life, for his own life. Because what was Ed without Al? A rebel without a cause, a conscience-less lost soul. "He's my little brother, please don't take him away, I'm begging you!"

He was a strange sight, a fourteen-year-old with a stopped heart, begging for his brother's life on his hands and knees to a homunculus that could kill him with a single flick of the finger.

"Brother!"

How many times had he heard that word, that one word, come from Al's mouth? It jerked him back, grounded him even at the most terrible times. Two syllables, and Ed remembered what he was living, fighting, risking his life for. He was somebody's brother; that's how he defined himself.

"It's okay," Al's voice was so low, so helpless, that Ed felt his stopped heart break in two, felt it shatter at the next sentence, "what am I, after all?" This was so far from okay that in another time, another place, another fourteen-year-old might have laughed.

"Don't give up on me now, Al!" he clapped his good hand against his useless one, ignoring the strange tears stinging at his eyes. He had a theory, unable to be proven, now or ever, that he cried for his brother who could not, that part, most of the tears he shed were those Al wanted to let fall but couldn't.

Al would be crying now, an inch, a whim away from death, and with that thought the remains of his ruined heart disintegrated as he approached his final task. Because, in the end, the good of the many did not necessarily equal the good of the few. Al was worth more than anyone, anything, even his morals, even Ed's own fragile, wavering soul.

**I love that episode (#22: Created Human, for the record) It has one of the most poignant scenes in the series, in our opinion.**

**Please, please review.**


	12. Follies of the Living

"_No fair, sky. I'm the one who feels like crying." __**Al to the sky when it begins to rain.**_

"Why don't you and your brother just worry about yourselves for a while?" They had to worry about themselves, had to, because for some reason, Al wasn't speaking to Ed. Not like he usually did, bubbling over with concern, questions, ideas. _We'll be better next time, Brother, we'll beat them, you'll see_.

That optimistic young spirit seemed to have left around the same time Al's arm and both his legs had been blown off, and for the life of him Ed couldn't think of why. Laboratory 5 had been terrible, and with the unveiling of the humunculi, they both knew their lives, and their battle for the stone, would never be the same, but it had just been another battle.

One where Ed had almost sacrificed human lives. One where Ed couldn't, and condemned his brother, his baby brother, to die…

Maybe it hadn't just been another battle.

As their days in the hospital wore on, Ed saw more and more need to take Hughes up on his plan to just worry about themselves, because not only did Al not become more cheerful, he stopped talking altogether unless someone, always Ed, directly addressed him.

Even when Winry (looking beautiful, of course. Had her hair always been that long? Had she always been so thin, so curvy?) came into the room, greeting both of the boys warmly, he had barely nodded, then turned his head towards the wall.

Then came that conversation about the milk. Ed really hated the stuff, didn't like the slimy, cold feeling as it dripped down his throat. It tasted, as he told Winry, like vomit, to which she retorted, fatefully, that he would always be the size of a bean.

"Right Al?"

They both watched as Al turned towards them, heard his sigh, so put-upon, so worn, that Ed could have sworn he was thirty, old, not just barely a teenager. So many people mistakenly thought Al was older than his years, which was why he'd been forced into battles, negotiations most full-grown men couldn't sort out. But this sigh also held regret… "Just drink the dumb milk."

Ed was renowned for putting his foot in his mouth, not thinking before he spoke. He was hot-headed and impetuous, not at all like his even, logical brother. But there, in the hospital, Ed put a whole shoe store in his mouth, "Yeah, sure, easy for you to say, Al." If he had looked, he would have seen Winry's frown of warning, Al's wary, tense position, "You're lucky, you didn't have to drink anything to get that big."

As soon as he said it, he wanted to take it back, because he knew Al would give anything, _anything_, to be human, even a half-human, shrimpy one like Ed. So he wasn't surprised (but was still hurt, even though he denied it, because how could he not be?) when Al looked straight at him, armor clanking, and said, clearly, coldly, "Shut up."

"It wasn't my choice to be this way." No, it wasn't Al's choice. It was Ed's fault, his inexperience, his want to play God that had gotten Al stuck in the clunky, cumbersome armor. Even if they had done the same attempt now, when Ed was fourteen, more experienced, even if they had made the same mistakes, Ed would have been better, more prepared. And maybe Al wouldn't be stuck in armor.

He could only duck his head, feeling shame and guilt and an overwhelming wish to change things, to at least take his brother in his arms and hold him. He hadn't held his brother in years, hadn't touched him in just as long (not in a dirty way. Ed was as guilty as anyone, making those jokes out of harmless sentences, sentiments. He wanted to comfort his little brother, and he dared anyone to find something unnatural in that.)

It went on like that, into the next day, his birthday. When he woke up, he saw Al staring at him from across the room. He was in pieces, struck mute, and, most likely, hating Ed, but he still watched over Ed as he slept. That was something, right?

"Happy birthday, brother." Al had murmured, the soft words cutting across the still room, and Ed could only nod his head, unable to make heads or tales of his brother. Al was usually so truthful, open, easily read by Ed, who knew him well. But now the older boy had no idea what Al was thinking, feeling, and that scared him.

"Al, what's been going on with you?" He stared at his bed sheet, fisted it in his hands. "You're angry with me, aren't you?" He was angry with himself, but he couldn't stand this…this distance between the two of them. Ed had been on many 'adventures' since he became a State Alchemist, had been deployed to so many places he'd lost count, but Al had always been there, his familiar reminder of home. He couldn't imagine doing all that with his baby brother mad at him.

Later, when Al had left to the roof and Winry was giving him a birthday tune-up, he needed to confide in someone or he'd explode. "I had the chance to give him his body back, and I couldn't, not with him watching me. My conscience got in the way." His lips quirked upward at that last sentence. Al was his conscience, and with him looking over Ed's shoulder, all of the hopes of a thirteen-year-old on his suddenly too-small shoulders, Ed had proven himself inadequate.

And Winry had set him straight (she was a smart girl, after all. In another time, another life, Ed would be hopelessly in love with her. Now he let his attraction sit and fester, an unspoken agreement between them to leave things be until After, After Ed was done with the military, After Al got his body back). She told him, in no uncertain terms, that Al was a selfless person.

Well, of course he'd already known that. He saw the boy day in and day out, and Al had a moral compass that was spot on, that often pulled Ed's own wayward personality to rights.

"Maybe he's upset because he watched the brother he idolizes even consider taking someone else's life."

And it made sense, such perfect sense, that Ed looked up, hopeful at the thought, mulling it over throughout the rest of the operation. "Now let's have you take care of Al."

Ed flipped his wrist, first one way, then the other, before pulling it steady. "Yeah, but…I have no idea what to say to him." Which was funny in and of itself, because Ed never ran out things to say, and often said more than was necessary.

"Just say sorry, you goof. You can rant for hours but you can't say two words?" Ed smiled, let himself fall into step behind Winry, who led the way to the roof.

For a moment, after h apologized, while he was laying the parts out, he truly thought that might be enough, that his little brother might once again forgive him, and everything would once again be alright. Normal, as he said to Al.

"Maybe you can go back to normal, brother." Al's voice was steady, not angry, or frustrated. If anything, it was just overwhelmingly sad. "But I don't think I ever will."

Ed stared at Al, so grown up in many respects, and even as he scrambled to comfort his brother, he was reeling from this unexpected blow. Of course Al would be normal, one day….Ed had to believe that, or else what was he working towards? But everything went downhill from there.

The conversation that followed was confusing, too rapid-fire to take in at once. Al? Fake memories? Where had this even come from? And then his peaceful, easy-going little brother was yelling (yelling?) at Winry, as if she was a liar, as if this was all just some massive conspiracy to undercut Al's entire sense of self.

And then…oh, this was the worst part, when Al turned to Ed, voice sounding so betrayed, so incredibly sad. "And what about you, my so-called brother?"

Those words ripped Ed's heart to shreds, left another piece lying on the platform beneath Ed's unsteady feet. Because how could Al ever think that Ed would manipulate him in that way? Ed loved Al, more than life itself, hadn't he already proven that? "Why won't you say anything…unless it's true!"

Ed reached out, grabbed Al before he could leave. "Let go of me! What's the point of living this lie?" He threw Ed off, as Ed knew he would. He just wasn't strong enough to hold onto his metal brother, and no matter how much he wanted to, Al would always be able to slip through his fingers.

They wrestled for a few moments before something sharp, cold, and terribly solid connected with Ed's face. His torn heart froze, stopped, as he realized what Al had done….but that couldn't be possible. Al would never hit him, especially when he'd just gone through surgery, was too weak to defend himself.

He pushed himself up onto an elbow, cast out one last, desperate plea. "Alphonse…"

But his brother stared at him, hurt radiating from the words that landed on Ed like punches, "Stay back…" as if Ed was hurting Al, not the other way around. "Stay away from me!"

And even as Ed struggled to his feet, he was able to see his younger brother, the most precious thing in his world, running away from him, was able to think one last, terrible thought. _I'm never going to see him again. _

**Review?**


	13. Concerns of the Dead

"_Brother…am I scary?"_

"_Please, you're kindness in a can." __**Alphonse and Edward Elric**_

Ed wandered hopelessly around the city, resigned to the fact that he would never see his brother again. He was so _stupid_. Alphonse was thirteen, and scared. He had put up with Ed, with the strange, nomadic life they were both forced to live in the military, with his Ed's seemingly bi-polar moods, his ability to find trouble, his inability to stay still.

And now Ed felt so responsible, because he knew that he should have brought it up earlier, finished that conversation that he started in Risenbol but which had really started the day Al followed Ed to Central. His blood turned to ice when he thought of what Al's answer might be, but he had to know…he had to.

_Do you hate me?_ It was such an awful question, and, though Ed spent the days wandering with Winry around Central preparing himself for the answer he most dreaded, he knew he'd still be crushed if Al looked at him and said, in his soft, lilting voice, _yes_.

But Ed already hated himself so _much_. He hated that he'd put Al in the clunky, cumbersome metal armor, hated himself for attempting a taboo in the first place, hated himself for burning down their home and turning their back on Risenbol when they were only children. He'd only been able to get through all that because he knew that Al was by his side, and wouldn't leave him, no matter how many times Ed gave him reason to.

Ed leaned against a wet, dirty wall, half-listening to Winry ask for anybody, anyone who'd seen Al. He remembered another rainy night, going after the Nina/Alexander _thing_, when Scar had met them for the first time.

Al had had his arm blasted off, but had been more upset with Ed for offering his own life to Scar. It had made sense at the time, sacrificing himself for his brother. Dying would be worth it if he knew that Al would live.

But what life? Mustang understood, knew their secret and kept it well. So did Hughes, and Winry and Auntie Pinako and a few of the guys, like Havoc and Fuery. They knew Al and accepted him for what he was, hollow. Empty.

The rest of the world wouldn't be like that, not all of them. They'd think Al was a freak of nature, or just a freak. They, like Scar, would name him a sin and dismiss him, try to kill him before the world knew that human transmutation was possible, because that would open a whole can of worms, like Laboratory 5.

No, he knew now that dying would just kill his brother, or force him to be a lab rat, a fate worse than death for someone as alive, as caring and free as Alphonse. So he lived, but it turned out that that might kill them both, too.

"Oh, Alphonse." Never before had Ed felt this lost, this alone. He needed Al, needed him to center his thoughts, to point out flaws in his plans and offer new ones, safe, practical plans that weren't elaborate or showy but would get the job done. He needed Al, Al, who was the only thing Ed would kill for, the only thing stopping him. With Al looking over his shoulder, he knew he could never kill in cold blood, and that was a reassuring thought.

They spent the day, and the next, searching, watching, hoping, checking in with Mustang and Hughes and anyone else who might have seen Al. Ed was getting less optimistic, began worrying about Al, trapped underwater, his blood seal washing off, or stabbed in the back by a Homunculi….they had once thought that Al was impervious to all dangers. Oh, to think that once again, and not be plagued by such nightmares!

Finding Al was part information, part luck. The battle that raged on the hill was apparent once Ed knew where to look. He jumped in on Al's side, because how could Al be wrong? Deflecting a blow about to land on his little brother, he screamed, "You leave him alone!"

"Brother? Brother, what are you doing here?" Ed smiled at the familiar name. _Brother_. It was so old-fashioned, but he gloried in the word. Brother, brother. Even when Al was angry at him, hurt, injured, cold, he would still call him brother, still place that modicum of faith in Ed, even if he deserved nothing.

"That's a stupid question, he's been worried sick about you! We've been looking for you all over Central!" Winry screamed. Ed put up a hand, telling her in a gesture to be quiet, to back away from the fight, which was getting more and more dangerous by the second.

Al gasped, as if shocked that Ed would go to such lengths for him, as if he didn't know that he meant the world to his older brother. Then, oh, then…if it was possible for a suit of expressionless armor to look relieved, happy, that's how Al looked. "Brother…"It was a sigh of longing, of knowing, as if, all along, Al knew that he had been human. And this was confirmation.

Together, they knocked Barry the Chopper back into the building, and Ed threw a shield of dirt up just before spears shot towards them.

"Al? All this time I've been too afraid to ask you," Ed squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating the reaction to what he was about to say. "But I need to know the truth, okay?" He asked it, like a question, making sure that his baby brother understood. Taking a deep breath, he blurted, "It's my fault you don't have a real body anymore…do you hate me?"

Their defense was blasted apart and Ed was left crouching on his hands and knees, Al (_Al!_) back at his side. "What?" The hulking mass whispered, and Ed could imagine a boy, his own size and shape, crouching next to him, a look of incredulity plastered across his face.

"Do you?" Ed whispered, not knowing if he wanted the answer, hoping for it to come anyway. "I wouldn't blame you if you did, Al, but I've got to know.

"I'm the reason you're like this now…" He took a deep breath, reiterated his question, eyes closed, begging for forgiveness, asking for strength, "Do you hate me for all that's happened?"

Al's voice was slow, measured, and Ed pictured the boy smirking, "That's what you've been trying to ask me?" It did seem silly now, agonizing over such a simple question, and Ed had paid dearly for his cowardice, his procrastination in asking. Al thought that Ed had fabricated his whole existence, and that was Ed's fault.

"Al, behind you!" Ed turned, ashen-faced, to see Barry the Chopper descending on both of them. He instinctively, uselessly, covered his head with his arm, waiting for the blow to fall, forgetting about alchemy, his thousand-pound brother, his own ability to move out of the way. He wanted it to end, he wanted an answer.

Al stood, bringing his arm back in preparation for a blow. Still his voice was soft, but filled with conviction, confidence, "Brother, I could…I could _never_ hate you." He let his fist go, slamming Barry in the face, sending the monster reeling back across the sky.

He turned to Ed, arms opened wide, and Ed walked into them, oblivious of the battle, of the blood and screams and sighs of humans, some only children, all around them. He only knew of himself, of Alphonse, of hurt and love and betrayal and comfort that transcended everything. And when Ed hugged Al, he knew that, as long as it was up to him, he would never leave Al again.

Later, at the docks, with Scar and the two Ishbalan boys about to leave, Scar turned to the boys. "Alphonse Elric, earlier, I did sense something." Ed stiffened, waiting for Scar to blow apart Al's new-found faith in himself, waiting for him to say that Al was an empty shell, a sin against nature, words he'd spoken so often before. But he was surprised. "Tears that can't be seen, but felt. Those tears were…human."

"Thank you." Alphonse murmured, and Ed looked up at his hulking younger brother and, perhaps childishly, girlishly, he slipped his hand into one of Al's big gloves, and squeezed like he used to when they were young, and Al wanted protection from the boogyman or darkness.

And when Al squeezed back, Ed could smile again, because, somehow, without a home or parents to call their own, everything was right in the world.

**So, that's number…12? Wow. And only a little more than half the episodes are done.**

**Anyways, please, please review.**


	14. You Can't Always Get What You Want

"_I don't want to be chained to the State any more than you do, but this is the only way I can fix things."_

"_Fix you or the world? Make sure you ask yourself that." __**Aunty Pinako and Ed**_

"Do you know where your father's living now?"

Well, didn't that question open a bag of worms? Ed turned his head away from Dante, looking at the ornate table, the old curtains. He looked away from Al, who had drawn a breath so quietly that, if Ed didn't know him better, he never would have heard in the first place.

Ed's only memory of his father was as distant as they came. Just a man, walking out the door. His features were vague, shadowed, his posture worn and defeated, as if he just couldn't take it anymore.

He would never forgive his father for walking out on his mother, on his sons, too young to even toddle after him. He wouldn't forgive him for leaving them with next to nothing, for not stopping by to see what a brilliant mind Ed had or how kind Al had become. _It's no thanks to him we're like we are_.

At nine, Ed had realized he could live without his mother, but he'd known for longer than that they he didn't need a father. On a subconscious level, he knew that he tried to impress the men he came into contact with. At twelve, he'd boarded a train full of men armed to the teeth and managed to fly by Hughes' radar. Before that, with the transmutation, he'd found Mustang.

But he didn't need them, any of them. He didn't need anybody. "I don't care." Ed professed, pushing himself up from the table, away, ignoring Al as he left him behind.

"Brother." A plea for Ed to stay, a request for forgiveness, to stay behind even when Ed left. Without looking back, Ed closed the door, and didn't see Al again for two days.

When he was knocked to the ground, basically having his ass handed to him by the Human Shield, Ed just kept hoping that Al would be able to fight off whatever henchmen Greed had sent in after him. He knew that if they had been together, there would be no way to take them both down, not with Al's strength, Ed's alchemy.

Surprisingly, though Ed was completely at his mercy, Greed didn't move in for the kill. "I can't have you following us," the man hissed, his voice coming out so silky smooth Ed was sure it had been greased and polished before it left his throat. "So maybe I should just break one of your legs."

For a teenager with very few materials to call his own, or even a place to call home, Ed was very protective about his body. He couldn't afford to lose another leg…though that might make him closer to becoming the _Full_metal Alchemist_. _The years it would take to become used to more automail would certainly put a damper on his plans, just as he and Al seemed to be about to find a break through.

Ed stared at Greed, daring him to try something, though he knew that if Greed meant to break his leg, he would do so whether or not Ed put up what was sure to be a pathetic fight. But then something surprising happened…Ed was looking in Greed's eyes, so he saw them flicker to the left, towards the house. Something in his expression changed.

And Ed was suddenly dropped to the ground in a most unceremonious heap. "Come on," Greed said, though he wasn't talking to Ed. No one ever seemed to be talking to Ed nowadays. About him, over him around him….

"No, wait!" Greed was walking away, strolling, really. He wouldn't be so hard to catch, if Ed hadn't just been beaten worse than he had in…oh, weeks at least. _Al_, he thought, willing his muscles to move, straining against pain and fatigue, but even the thought of his little brother, undoubtedly captured (though who could capture Al? He never passed out, and was so difficult to move…Ed could only hope they hadn't torn him apart…) even the thought of Al wasn't enough to motivate his exhausted body.

On the lawn of Dante's beautiful mansion, while a homunculus and his cronies carted his favorite person in the world away, Ed passed out to the sound of his heart breaking once again.

When he came to, it was dark, and he was alone on the mountain with festering injuries that he knew Mustang would bluster at him about later. _Let them get infected_. He thought, not caring enough to wrap the wounds before he sped through the thick forest, back into town, to ask everyone he met if they saw a large suit of armor anywhere. _For a big guy, Al is always so hard to find_.

But even during the search, the repeated leads that turned out to be dead ends, Ed's broken heart was mending itself as he went along his journey, heartened by the fact that he had to find Al, eventually, or die trying. His heart was broken again when Armstrong stared at him, through him, his words laid down slowly as he informed Ed that his brother's life "is not our top priority."

And Ed always hated the words collateral damage, innocent bystanders. Who's to say that, with a well-placed bullet, Al could not be taken down by the very people Ed had taught him to trust?

The third time in as many days that Ed's heart stopped was when they had gotten Al back, safe, mostly intact. They were at the hospital, again, where Al had insisted they go to check on Ed's untreated injuries (which were, in fact, infected) and to set Teacher's bones (all of her fingers had been broken when she punched Greed, though she insisted they'd heal on their own).

Ed had asked Al to relate what had happened to him in the time they were separated, both for his own sake and because he knew he would, eventually, be making a report to Mustang about it. "I'm fine, brother, really." Al had replied when Ed asked him for the thirtieth time.

"He said I was perfect, the ultimate fighter. He said I had Eternal Life." Al shook his head, staring up at the ceiling. "He had his facts all wrong."

"Really?" Ed asked, suppressing a yawn. It was late, and the last time he'd slept (not counting the injury-induced bout with unconsciousness) had been so long ago Ed didn't want to count back the hours. "What'd he say?"

Al squirmed in his seat, producing a series of metallic thunks that they both ignored. The noise was a part of who Al was, like Ed's one lick of hair that wouldn't stay down, or his automail. "He said that I wasn't affected by old age," Ed nodded, though there was no way to verify this until Al got his body back. Ed had a theory that he'd find a ten-year-old behind the gate. Al sincerely hoped he was older, because he couldn't imagine being so many years behind his brother.

"He also said that hunger and…fatigue…they didn't hurt me." Al's voice was quiet and suddenly Ed was completely awake, and feeling guiltier that he had in a long time. He may be tired, but at least he had sleep and a nice bed to look forward to. He may not have slept in days, but for Al it had been _years_.

"I know I don't need to eat, brother, but I am hungry." Not for the first time, Ed promised himself that he'd buy Al an eight-course meal as soon as he got his body back. "And I'm so, so tired." Al sighed and clanked until he was holding his helmet head in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Al." Sorry he couldn't move when he knew Al was captured, sorry he let Al get spirited away from him again once he'd finally found him. Sorry that Al would always be mistaken for a warrior, when the boy wanted nothing more than to act his age. Sorry that he'd condemned his brother to perpetual agony.

And when Al turned to him, with eyes that Ed would always swear held compassion, love, and said, "You don't have anything to be sorry about, brother,"…that's when Ed's heart stopped. Again.

**Poor, poor Al. This is where he's all messed up. I always wanted there to be an episode where he actually got his body back, and everything ended up okay (the movie doesn't count…)**

**Anyways, please review.**


	15. Family Trees

"_Lay off, I'm as normal as they come, and this is a contest of Freaks. What do you want me to do, fire my slingshot at them?" __**FMA**_

"What do you mean? We made it to some random town, that's all." Somehow, the teasing quality of Al's voice didn't lessen Ed's mood. It was obvious that Al was only once again chiding him, in the younger's own, quiet way, for not thinking ahead. But he couldn't see it that way.

"When did you become such a pessimist?" Even though that word was wrong with Al, it seemed to fit his mood lately,, ever since the homunculi had taken him captive, Al had been more introverted than ever. "We can probably find a car in this town or something."

Al carefully poked holes in this plan, too "And what would we do if we did find one? No one would ever sell a car to a couple of kids."

"Well, I guess we'll just find out." Ed huffed and made to walk away, letting Al catch up. Al always followed him. Why should now be any different?

"Brother, you shouldn't be so impulsive." This part was plaintive, a sigh, hoping for change in an oft-repeated battle. "You got to learn to plan things out, think ahead a little bit."

"I am planning things out."

"No you're not!" If al wasn't in that suit, he would have stamped his foot in impatience. Ed could practically see the unexpressive eyes catch fire. "You're…what you're about to do is just. It's…"

"What?" Ed demanded, frowning, probably looked like a little kid, but he didn't care. What did Al know, anyway? It wasn't like he was coming up with any bright ideas. Again, he demanded, "It's just what?"

Sigh, and Al turned away, his whole body clanking, voice quiet, imploring, a child asking for directions from someone just as lost as he. "Are you sure we're doing the right thing?" Ed frowned. "I mean, sure we have to stop Scar, and the whole point of all this is to get our bodies back to the way they were. But…what happens after that?"

It was obvious Al had been thinking on this for a while, and Ed himself had no clue. Would Al be fourteen or ten when he came out of the gate? Would he have memories, muscles, emotions? Would Ed stay in the military, or would he find another cause worth fighting for, the Ishbalans, perhaps, or Leor? Ed didn't know, he didn't know if he wanted to do anything, or if he would just do as his body wanted and relax for a solid years, sleeping and eating and laughing when he pleased.

"I don't know, Al, why don't you tell me?" His voice was colder than he meant it to be, but he couldn't think like Al, he couldn't think of the future when they had to live through the now in order to get there. He wasn't a planner, or a dreamer, he was a doer.

Alphonse shifted, sounded embarrassed, "I don't know, I just think that maybe we should worry about the homunculi first, that's all."

"What are you worried about, Al? If you're worried about something, say it." Ed's questions were challenges as he realized, not for the first time, that Al was quietly, passively overriding Ed's authority, his status as self-proclaimed alpha, even though those nearest to the Elrics would comment that Al had more control over Ed than the other did over Al.

"All I mean is there might be a better option, we just need to think things over."

And Ed knew what Al was thinking, the same thing Ed had been thinking for days. What if Greed had been right? Not about making an army of Als or anything, but about Al being practically invincible. If Al was returned to his body now, and Ed got a hold of his arm and leg (which were about thirty notches down on his Things He Absolutely Had to Do list from Al's body), then they would be that much more vulnerable to attacks. Ed was honest enough with himself to admit that the reason he let Al take part in as many battles as he did was because he knew that Al, though he would get banged up and fall apart at the slightest provocation, would not die.

But Ed dismissed him. "You're not making any sense." He lied, even though he knew. He just couldn't' face the fact that it made sense for Al to stay in agony for any longer. It didn't matter if Al himself was offering up the opportunity, advocating it, fighting for it, Ed thought it was wrong. Period.

"Listen to me!" Al's voice was imploring now. "We need to think about what we're doing!"

"Shut up!" Ed shouted. "You think it over. Al." Not brother, or Alphonse, even though he hadn't called Al Alphonse in a long, long time, even though Al loved hearing his name. Just Al, tossed out like it meant nothing, like Al meant nothing. He was tired and hungry and hurt and needed to lash out at someone, anyone, and, like always, Al was just _there_.

"Wha ---" Al screamed, sounding so young that Ed looked up for a moment before hardening again. This was war. "What are you doing?"

"There." Al was encased in rock, stuck. "Tell me if you get any good ideas."

"Very funny, brother." Always, always brother. "Now you're going to get it." Before Ed realized what was happening the circle was already drawn. Why did he always forget that Al was just as proficient an alchemist as he was? Just because Al wasn't always showboating his prowess didn't mean he didn't posses any.

And Ed was drenched by the fountains Al had called up. "Maybe that will cool off that head of yours." But even those words weren't mean or spiteful, they were just thrown out, half-heartedly, adding to a fight that Ed had started and that Ed, as always, would finish.

"Thanks, I'm seeing much clearer now." The battle was on, back and forth in the center of this nameless town, the brothers went on, Ed battling out of bitterness, vengeance, frustration that he might not be on the right path, Al keeping up pace for pace.

In the end, Al was in a cage, Ed suspended by rocks, and breathing hard. "What's wrong with you? Why do you always have to be so stubborn?" Al's voice was lilting, pleading, really wanting to know an answer to an ageless question.

"I'm not being stubborn, Al!" But he was and he knew it. He was just waiting for Al to submit, like he always did, and let Ed come to the same conclusion on his own. Eventually (eventually), they would end up on the same path, with Ed refusing that Al had any part in the decision.

"Yes you are!" Al insisted, his arm swinging out to emphasize this. "If you weren't so stubborn we wouldn't even be here, we could have asked dad for help!"

"Are you kidding? I'll never ask that bastard for anything!" But he would never tell Al why, because even though he hated that Al had faith in a man they didn't know, he also envied his brother for his disillusionment.

"And that's what makes you so stubborn!"

Ed looked away from him, unable to take those eyes, so frustrated and angry and yet begging to be able to understand. "Shut up." He murmured, clapping and hands to be released from the bonds. "Do whatever you want."

He walked away, pretending he didn't hear Al. "Brother…brother, come back."

**Flashback**

"Where Al?" Four-year-old Ed asked his father, looking up from the book he was 'reading'. He mostly looked at the pictures, and sometimes Al tried to color them. Al had gone out to the market with their dad while Ed had been made to stay home, getting over a cold.

Hohenheim looked up from where he was putting his coat on the hook. He'd been distracted all week. Dante had surprised him by coming down from her mountain home and hanging around their little village. Deep in his bones, in the skin that wouldn't quite stretch over it anymore, he knew it was time to move on, to get away from Trisha while she still knew him as a man.

He didn't recognize Edward's question for several seconds, than forgot its meaning. "What did you saw, Ed?"

Ed sighed, propped himself up on his elbows, blond hair flapping in front of his eyes. Where had he gotten such hair? Not from him, certainly not from Trisha. Intelligent eyes flicked all around Hohenheim, examining, "Where's Alphonse, dad?"

"Alphonse?"

Ed tilted his head to the side, a slight frown obscuring his features and he said, much more seriously, a little frightened, "Where's Al?"

A cold, slimy, wet feeling spread through his body, and it had nothing to do with his failing organs. "Oh no."

"Dad?" Now Ed was on his feet, his cheeks red with fever and anxiety, breath coming in short gasps. "Where did Al go? Is he okay?"

Hohenheim reached behind him for his jacket and yanked it back over his arms, already opening the door with his other hand. "No, Ed, you cannot come with me. I will be faster alone." But Ed was jumping up in the air, his hands twisting in the air, trying to grab his jacket.

"Edward, you're sick. You must stay here." But he knew that the easiest way, and the quickest, would be to take Ed with him. Picking up the small boy, he jerked the jacket over Ed's arms and grabbed a scarf from the counter. He may forget one boy in town a mile away, but he would make sure the other was warm.

They rushed down the hill, Hohenheim controlling himself just enough to keep from stumbling. Damnit, Al must not have been with him when he left the tea house, where he'd stopped in to get Al some hot chocolate, a treat that both boys enjoyed. He had caught sight of Dante through the window and just…forgot.

"Dad? Did you leave Al in town?" Ed asked, his head bouncing up and down with each step. "Was he being bad?" Ed couldn't imagine what Al could have done to be left behind. It always seemed that Al was quieter and more polite than Ed. "I'm worried about him." He worried about Al constantly, and he tried to be with him always, but he wasn't allowed to go to town because of the stupid cold that made his throat tingle and his chest hurt.

"Al wasn't being bad, Edward, I just forgot he was with me. He'll be alright." But Hohenheim was worried, too, and he willed himself to go faster.

"But…but Alphonse doesn't like being alone. And he doesn't like the cold, or the dark." And it was both now. "Why did you leave him?"

"I told you, Ed, I forgot, now be quiet." Hohenheim's voice must have held an edge he didn't mean to put there, because Ed was quiet for the rest of the journey, but in a stony, bristling way that the older didn't know four year olds could pull off.

The tea shop was opened only for Al, with the owner sitting across from him, letting Al nibble on a cookie that didn't quite make the worried, tense look in the toddler's face disappear. When Ed saw him, he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding and squirmed until his dad let him down.

"Al!" Ed pulled his younger brother towards him, patting his head and letting the heart he hadn't even know had stopped restart. At four, he knew that he couldn't live without Al, that he would only be a half of himself without his little brother. And at that moment, when he was holding Al, who was shaking beneath his arms, and glaring up at his dad, who looked, for his part, thoroughly chagrined, he knew that he could never trust his had again.

**Review?**


	16. Death Sentence

"_The cycle of life only goes in one direction. Not even alchemy can change that." __**Edward Elric**_

"I'm afraid the battle's already begun."

Ed had had enough. Grabbing the collar of Archer's uniform, he pulled the man down to his level. "You can pretend it's beyond your control, but because of your senseless warmongering these soldiers are being led to slaughter!" When that young man came up, called Archer away, he knocked Ed to the ground. For a moment, he was stunned, then he whipped around, looking back at Archer. "This is a mistake! Wait, don't go! You'll all die, damnit!"

If he had been in the city, next to his brother where he belonged, he would have heard Alphonse beg for his help, would have listened to his screams of pain as the Philosopher's Stone activated inside of his body. But Ed was on the outside looking in, and only saw the red, blinding light coming from the city and know that there were hundreds, maybe thousands of people left inside, dying.

He watched as the red power engulfed Archer, watched as the Colonel's subordinated made their first steps towards his doomed body. "You idiots!" He screamed, clapping his hands together and slamming them to the ground, creating a barrier to save the men, to save himself.

In the end, they were left standing, kneeling, lying in front of the desert, looking at the place where the city had once been. Now there was only sand, just sand, as if the city and the people inside it had never been there at all, had just been in his imagination.

"I-I thought I was dead. What just happened out here?" Edward looked down at the soldier, kneeling on the ground beside him. He realized, vaguely, that he was probably the ranking officer. Fifteen and in charge of the lives of men.

He looked back at the city and said coolly, coldly, "Pull yourself together. Gather up all the survivors." Just orders, issued easily, before he took off running.

Maybe, just maybe, someone had survived. He ran across the sand, ignoring the tiny voice in the back of his head, saying he could very well be running on the ashes of people, the dust of a once beautiful city. "Hello?" He craved an answer, needed one. Could all those hundreds of soldiers be dead?

A mound of sand seemed like the best bet for a life. Running towards it, he began scooping the sand out of the way, digging for life, for answers.

His heart stopped cold in his chest when the sand suddenly shifted, revealing shiny, familiar metal. But it couldn't be…Al wasn't supposed to be here, in this dead wasteland.

But that was his armor, right in front of him, the armor that housed the most precious thing in Ed's life. And it wasn't moving. Not even a little. All he could think of was Al, looking at him in surprise at the unexpected cake on his birthday, Al, admonishing gently for his latest transgression, Al, holding a cat in his huge hands, still able to pet it gently, Al, laughing, looking at him to say, _oh, brother. _

The blast, the red light…it was so possible that Al was dead, gone from him forever, just as if seemed the quest was starting to make sense. He started to sag, to sink against the sand. _No, no, no. You can't do this to me, Al. Not now._

"Brother?" God, he loved that word. He looked back at the armor and could definitely see two glowing eyes, the only thing that differentiated Al from other nameless suits of armor.

He smiled, reached out to help Al out of the sand, his heart beating once more. Suddenly, Al was on his feet, had knocked Ed once again on his bottom, so he was left staring up at him.

"No, brother! You have to get away from me! I'm going to explode any minute!"

Ed gaped at him. He was just happy Al was alive. Tilting his head slightly, he ran through the possibility of brain damage, remembered that Al, technically, had no brain, and instead said, "Ummm…okay. But I don't get it. What are you doing out here?"

He'd specifically made sure that Al wouldn't be anywhere near the city when he'd left. What the hell had happened between then and now?

"Am I…? I'm back to normal?" Al's little voice whispered. Granted, he wasn't really back to normal – that would be a miracle worth dancing, shouting, screaming over. He was in his regular suit of armor, just as Ed had left him, though when Ed took off his little brother hadn't been so full of sand. "I'm normal again! I mean, not _normal_ normal, but…normal!"

Ed was really trying to understand, still trying to get his heart beating at a normal pace again after that scare of finding Al, motionless, buried in a city that had just, effectively, blown up. "Alright…I don't know what you're talking about but…"

"Oh. Right." Al took a deep breath, preparing to tell the whole story. "Well, first Kimbly turned me into a bomb. Then Scar killed him. And Lust said that if my armor was turned into something else I could be saved. So Scar put his hand on me and it was like his arm _was_ me…"

That's all Ed needed to hear. He gasped in surprise, in recognition, and leaned forward, suddenly urgent, suddenly needing to see the proof. "Listen, open up your chest plate." Al gasped, and Ed knew it was a strange request. They had been trying for four years to convince the world that Al was just a kid who loved to wear a suit of armor, that there was a body inside. Removing the chest plate would confirm for all to see that the armor was empty.

"Just do it, Al."

Al opened his chest plate, revealing the beautiful red mass they'd been searching for since they were old enough to know how to look for it. The Philosopher's Stone…Al…Ed couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. Scar might have saved his little brother – and if the man had still been alive, Ed would be forever, grudgingly, in his debt – but he had effectively killed their chances of ever being returned to their old bodies.

"Brother? What is it?" Al put his hand inside his chest, quivering slightly as his hand came into contact with the force field around the stone. He looked down at Ed, needing an explanation.

"Well, Al, a minute ago, the Transmutation Circle in Leor was activated. Scar – he created a Philosopher's Stone." Here, Ed could see Al's eyes widening, either in hope or fear, he couldn't tell. "But he didn't do it inside his own body…" Ed looked away, unable to finish his sentace.

"Yes, that's right, boy, he finished it. Now the very thing you've been looking for is attached to your soul." Lust stood on the hill, her sinuous body the only break in the desert. Ed wanted to scream at her, but suddenly felt tired, so tired. He had worked too long and hard for it to end like this, in this terrible outcome. He needed the Philosopher's Stone to get Al's body back from beyond the gate, to get his own limbs back, but in order to use the Philosopher's Stone, he'd be killing the very thing he was trying to restore, and if it didn't work, if he couldn't get Al's body back, then his brother's soul would be gone, too.

And then what would happen to Ed? Without a conscience, embittered by war and battle and blood, unable to join back in the ranks of the military that told him to do things he so despised…he would turn renegade, vigilante, die young just so he had the chance of seeing Al again.

"You mean…I _am_ the Philosopher's Stone?" Al's jaw dropped open, and when his eyes went wide, Ed could definitely read fear in the expression. It didn't make any sense, why Scar would save an Elric when he so hated Ed, just for being in the military. Of course, Scar liked Alphonse – everyone did, eventually, they couldn't help it, but that didn't explain why he'd give up his life, his alchemy, his arm, to make Al into a Philosopher's Stone, which would rule out any chance of Al becoming human again. Scar had just condemned Al to live in the sin the man so detested.

When Al next spoke, there were so many words left out. "Brother…I'm…" _I'm the Philosopher's Stone, I'm never going to be able to get my body again. I'm never going to be human. I'm stuck here, aren't I?_

Ed swallowed, forced himself to look up at Al, "That's right." And he couldn't change this one, couldn't help his little brother, like he was supposed to.

And his heart stopped again.

**Review?**


	17. Respite and Nepenthe

_The Philosopher's Stone. Those who possess it no longer bound by the laws of equivalent exchange in alchemy, can gain without sacrifice... create without equal exchange. We searched for it... and we found it. __**Edward Elric**_

"How long are we going to run, brother?"

They sat in the desert, Ed clutching his cloak around his shoulders and shivering. He'd used alchemy to heat up the ground beneath him, but didn't dare to do more than that. Always paranoid of being followed, he was even more worried given the state of Alphonse. _Al…_

"We're going to Risenbol, Al."

"What are we going to do in Risenbol?" Al's voice was truly perplexed, though as always it wasn't argumentative. He trusted that Ed knew where he was going, though in truth Ed didn't have a clue.

He knew that the military would probably track them to their hometown, that Ed was still important enough to _be_ tracked, that they were probably falling into a trap. But Ed didn't know what to do anymore, and the one, overriding motive in his life was now taking over. He had to protect Al, and running was the only way he knew how to do that.

"We could have gone to the Colonel…" Al's voice was tentative in the dark, his huge glove-covered hand wrapping itself around Ed's shoulder unconsciously. The smaller boy pushed it off, shivering hard from the low temperatures, not willing to touch the icy metal.

"Mustang wouldn't have done anything." Ed spat, his distrust of the Flame Alchemist rising like bile in his throat. "He would have carted you off to Central and gotten a big promotion, probably have me locked up, too, because I'd kill him otherwise."

And that was the big fear here, wasn't it? That someone, whether it be the military, who were after the Philosopher's Stone, or the Ishbalins, who were after the Philosopher's Stone, or the homunculi who were, ironically, after the Philosopher's Stone, would take Alphonse by force because he just happened to have the Philosopher's Stone locked up in his chest.

Al sighed, and it was such a _normal_ sound that Ed found himself relaxing his extremely tense muscles at the noise. "Do you really believe he would do that, brother?"

Ed didn't know what to believe anymore. He only knew that, when it came to that damned Stone, anything seemed to go. And perhaps Mustang, who, Ed had to grudgingly admit, had been pretty good to the wayward Elrics over the years, would have helped, but there was always that possibility, however slight, that he wouldn't have, that he would have locked Ed up, taken Al away, and then where would they be?

Winry pointed out, once, in the dark of a night in the town, with her fingers wrapped around his, that Ed didn't seem to have a _goal_. Ed had bristled at the accusation, became instantly defensive. "I'm going to get back Al's body, Winry. And my limbs. That's always been the goal."

And Winry sighed, pulled her hand out of his. "What about _after_, Ed? After everything turns out perfectly fine, what are you going to do?"

The problem was that Ed really didn't know. Most of his life had been about getting Al's body, which was finding the Philosopher's Stone. Now that they had it, what _would_ Ed do? He couldn't use it, not in good conscious, because would Al's soul do if the transition of the energy ripped apart his body? It would float, untethered, and perhaps Ed would never be able to get it back.

He wouldn't, couldn't take that risk. Al was too important to leave to chance.

Back in the desert, with sand on all sides and temperatures down near the twenties and only the patch of warmth beneath him and the cloak slung over his shoulders, Al shifted slightly, and Ed could see something pink glitter like the thousands of stars overhead. And it was _warm_.

If only he could touch Al without releasing the power in the Philosopher's Stone. It was only Al's gloved hands he could touch without risking damage to his little brother. Again, Ed shivered. Again, Al looked at him worriedly.

"Brother…" Al asked, his voice slow, quiet in the quiet of the night. "Why don't you use the Philosopher's Stone?"

"It would kill you, Al. You know I can't risk that."

Al absentmindedly drew a transmutation circle in the sand, then erased it and drew another, then another, until he had one that would make a fire, if he wanted it to. "What if I was already dead?"

Any fatigue or cold or hunger Ed was feeling dropped instantly away. "What do you mean by that, Al? You can't die."

"I could." Al pointed out reasonably. "Someone could touch my blood seal, or I could be dropped in water, or explode…" The young teen took a deep, steadying breath. "I could fall apart."

"I would put you back together."

"Not like this!" Al's voice was high with something like fear, and Ed fell silent. He wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to touch his brother, to give him some sort of comfort. Damn the Philosopher's Stone, damn Scar for condemning Alphonse to this.

"Something is happening to me brother. I…it hurts _so much_." There were tears, thick in Al's voice, that wouldn't, couldn't fall, because, technically, Al had no eyes. Ed squeezed his own shut, reflecting once again on the shitty deal his brother was left with. No body, but the same pangs and urges as one. He knew that Al desired sleep, food, the comfort of warm skin on warm skin.

"Alphonse…" He felt so useless, sitting next to Al, unable to help his brother threw pain. If Al had been sick or injured, poisoned or stabbed or burned or the other countless things that could possibly happen to a person, Ed would have known exactly what to do. But he was fifteen, and Al was hurting, and he wasn't prepared for this.

"My soul can't live with the Stone, Ed." Al paused, his words slow, his voice steadier than before. "They can't be in the same place, in this body. And the Stone is winning…the armor is rejecting my soul." Al turned slightly, lifted one of his arms with the usual clatter.

There was a gaping hole where the elbow should have been. Ed reached for it, stopping himself just in time.

"I don't know how much longer I can hold on." More silence, and somewhere a wolf howled. "I don't know how much longer I _want_ to hold on. I'm so tired, brother." His voice cracked again, and for a moment Ed tried to imagine going without sleep for four years.

"I'm sorry, Al." And it was a tone that he used only with his baby brother, one of complete openness and contrition. A lump had formed in his throat as he realized just what Al was telling him. "But I can't use the Stone while I still have a chance to save you."

A small gasp. Ed knew that Al wasn't expecting that response. "Brother _please_."

His heart cracked, broke, burned hot like the tears dripping off his face, visible only to the stars, oblivious a million miles away. He couldn't kill his brother, not even to rid him of the pain that had been chronic for years. Did that make him selfish, that he wanted Al to live a life beyond this, to remember that there was something beyond the hours of hurt with no hope of comfort? He hoped not. He hoped that he was doing this for Al, and not just because he wanted to spare himself another loss.

"Please…" Ed turned his back on Al, tried to ignore his repeated appeals for respite. He had spent years trying to prevent his brother's death. He wasn't about to be the one who caused it.

Laying under the curtain of stars, Ed tried to forget the missing armor at his brother's elbow, proof that he may not have a choice in whether the most important person in his life lived or died. He tried to ignore his heart, shattering in his chest every time Al begged for death, because it would be easier than living through another day.

**Poor, poor Al. **

**Please review.**


	18. Fall

_"I've spent years devoted to alchemy…. Getting my arm and leg back and my brother's body. That's our dream… What have we ever gained for our losses?... Everything's been taken from us!" __**Edward Elric**_

"Hey Breda, is Havoc okay?" Ed's voice came out smaller than he remembered it, probably out of guilt. He hadn't meant to shoot Havoc, had warned the man that he'd only be hurting himself. He liked Havoc, liked little Fuery who was so kind, playing cards and checkers and chess with Al when Ed was stuck in the hospital, and that had happened more times than he wished to remember.

Breda turned around, sized up Ed as if trying to figure out what had actually happened between the men in the woods. "He's gone." For a second Ed thought he'd heard wrong. Havoc couldn't be _gone_. It had just been a flesh wound when he and Al left. Only a flesh wound. "Sent back before us with Fuery."

Ed let out a sigh of relief. He had really hated hurting two of the people who had been kindest to him, to Al, in the past four years. "I'm glad. I didn't mean to hurt him." He muttered, falling back a little. For a moment there was only the sound of the stream, of the birds, of Al's steady clanking.

It was Winry, walking beside him, who broke the new silence that ensued. "Ed? Where's your watch?" Ed himself had to look down, forgetting that he'd taken it off before.

"I see." Hawkeye's voice was measured, slow, and perhaps a little disappointed, "You've already taken off your pocket watch. You must have really meant what you said back there about retiring from the military."

Ed frowned at this, surely Hawkeye would know what had happened at Leore? "I didn't take it off to prove a point. Archer took it from me and I never got it back."

"What? But we told Al to give it back to you."

Everyone froze. Ed turned to look at Al, who looked more miserable and guilty than he had in a while. He backed away from Ed, hands up, "I'm sorry, brother. It's gone."

Gone. There that word was again. Havoc was gone. The watch was gone. Their mother, and Hughes, and Winry's parents were gone. Teacher was going.

"You lost it?" Ed's voice came out impossibly low, much too frustrated. He'd loved that watch, had engraved it so that he'd never, ever forget what he was fighting for, as if that was ever possible.

But Al was quick to explain, "No, I didn't lose it! See, Kimbly threw it to Scar and then all the red stones fell out of it and Scar's arm absorbed it, there was nothing I could do!" Al's voice got higher and higher when he got upset, a pitch totally at odds with his hulking mass.

"And why were there red stones inside of my state-issued watch, Al?" His brother knew just as much as Ed how much damage that red water could do. It amplified alchemic powers, yes, but at the expense of human lives. That was something Ed could never condone. How could Al have gone behind his back to do this?

It was Mustang who saved the argument, his soft voice breaking the tension, or perhaps adding to it. "It's Archer. He uses those stones to make more alchemy amplifying devices."

It was said so quickly, so simply, that Ed was sure he must have heard wrong. He rounded on the Colonel. "What?"

"When we were crushing the Ishbalan rebellion, Gran ordered us to do the same thing."

This was impossible. He had learned, in four years, just how corrupt the military was, just how many innocent lives they'd taken. Mustang had admitted not too long ago that he himself had killed Winry's parents. Not only were they using a stone that needed sacrificial humans to be created, but it was from of the Philosopher's Stone, something that Ed had been pursuing since day one. "Wait a minute, Colonel, you're saying that even though you knew the military had created a partial Philosopher's Stone, you waited until _now_ to tell me about it!"

He pushed past Breda, too dumbfounded to stop him, as Mustang continued to talk, "I thought Dr. Marco had run away and put a stop to the research. I had no way of knowing they were using human beings to --"

Edward grabbed Mustang's collar, careful to grab with his automail arm. If he decided to punch the Colonel, and at this point that seemed like a real possibility, he didn't want to have a murder charge on his hands. "I don't trust you!"

It was possible that only Al knew just how far gone he was, because Al was the only one who moved. "Brother!" he cried. Usually that word, said in that tone, was enough to make Ed back down, remember himself. Not now.

"You knew what it took to make one…"

"Stop, Brother!"

"…and still you let me search for that damn thing!" He couldn't believe it had taken until then for Mustang to grab the arm pinning him to Ed's height. Maybe his old superior was surprised at how angry Ed actually was.

"That's enough!" Mustang grabbed Ed's hand, pried the metal fingers from his collar just as Al reached them. This same scene had happened a hundred times before: Ed would get out of hand, Al would pull him away from the argument. Al was his conscience, his filter, his mute button.

Now, though, when Al touched him, when he cried the familiar word of, "Brother!" the Philosopher's Stone was activated. Both boys had forgotten about its power, both boys had forgotten how it hurled them apart. Before they'd been on sand, now though, Al's body arced towards the water...

Water. His heart, which had been pounding hard in his chest, stopped dead."Al!" Ed screamed, racing towards the edge of the bank, thinking of the seal, which could not get wet, could never get wet. It was blood, it would run, would let Al's soul go free. "Al!" Winry screamed behind him, Mustang was at his side, going towards the river, hoping they'd get there in time.

"Al! Al!" He couldn't stop saying it, his vocabulary had been reduced to the one word. How was it possible that they had survived so much together and it was Ed's touch that made Al finally leave him?

Mustang reached the top of the rocks first, probably because he was taller, because he wasn't moving through a film of tears. He looked down at the river, fished a hand down into it. "He's too heavy!"

Breda and Armstrong were coming, but not fast enough. Ed could see the Philosopher's Stone, glowing red just below the surface of the water. He reached his hand down, threw Al's helmet towards the bank, clamped his palm down on the spot he knew by heart -- the location of Al's seal. _Please don't leave me_.

"Alphonse!" How long had it been since he'd called his brother by his full name? Things had been so hectic, everything had been moving so fast, that the boys hadn't gotten much time together. And Al so loved his full name, just as much as Ed liked being called _brother_. It was something so few people called them that it was rare, special.

Ed lay flat in the stream, unwilling to let go of the seal even for the second it would take to perform alchemy. When Armstrong lifted Al's armor out of the river, he simply picked up Edward along with it.

"Is he…?" Mustang's voice was quiet. He, like Edward, didn't want to find out the answer.

"Al?" Ed's voice was broken. He lifted his hand, peered at the spot where the seal was supposed to be. His heart, which had lain dormant in his chest, started to beat to life when he saw the blood, faded and broken in places, but still making a very definite shape.

He tapped on the armor, looked into Al's eye holes. How do you wake up someone who hasn't fallen asleep in four years? Ed almost didn't want to disturb him, but he needed to be sure, be quite sure that his little brother was okay. What if his soul had managed to escape, now that they were so close to using the Philosopher's Stone?

"Brother?" And wasn't that the most beautiful word in the world? Al's arms went up, hovered around Ed's body. Ed used to hug Al all the time when they were boys. He wasn't one for expressing his emotions out loud, and a hug was often all Al needed to be soothed from a nightmare.

But Al's arms closed around Ed's body now, the first time in months, in years. Al often thought that his big body would hurt more than help. "Are you okay, brother?" Al's big hand patted Ed gently on the back as Ed shuddered against the wet body. Of course Al would think that Ed was the one hurt. Ed had been the only one truly injured in four years.

"I'm fine, Alphonse." Ed murmured, letting himself sink for a second into his brother's hard body, letting himself believe that he was young again, waiting for his heart to restart.

**This is the first slightly AU chapter in a long line of slightly AU chapters. Why? Because the series, which was so beautiful and deep, had such an abrupt ending, and it shouldn't have stopped there. Stupid Nazi Germay...**

**Anyways, Review?**


	19. Over and Done With

_The great flow that cannot be seen by the eye. I don't know if we call that space or the world. But Al and I are a small part of that flow. The one in all. But the 'all' exists when the 'ones' are put together. This world flows by following a grand law we can't even conceive of. **Edward Elric**_

It was over.

The lies, the stealing, the killing. Al's armor was over, and Ed's fake arm and leg. Envy was over. Dante was over. Gluttony was over.

It was over.

The process of exchanges had become blurred even to Ed, who'd taken part in it, who'd lived through it. Was it he who'd died first, or Al? Did his baby brother watch as he was stabbed through the back? Did he see his brother die from the inside out, the outside in?

Did he go beyond the gate? Did he find Al's body and bring it back, or was that a dream? Was Al there at all? Were Dante and Rose? The baby? What was real? What was real?

It was over. The homunculi were gone, as long as the Colonel had managed to take down Pride, and Ed, for all his bellyaching and whining, had utter faith in the Colonel. Mustang could handle himself, and when he couldn't, Hawkeye would do it for him.

Was the law of Equivalent Exchange true? What about the Philosopher's Stone? Did any of the things he'd known up to this moment exist? It was so confusing, so confusing, and he felt like he needed to sleep for an eternity.

Except… there was always that thought, not far from the fore of his mind, the reason for this quest, for his entire existence. "Al?" He questioned, and the stale air broke, cracked around the word. So they were still in the…church, that's what it was called. An ancient religion from another day, before alchemy, before transmutations and Equivalent Exchange.

Was it possible that everything had turned out right, that they'd beaten the monster and finally gotten the happy ending? Ed knew that Al deserved a happy ending – his little brother deserved the world, after being in perpetual agony for years. But he, Ed, had lied, and killed, and didn't deserve anything.

But it didn't matter now, not now, not until he could make sure, make quite sure that Al, his baby brother, was alive. "Al?" And the air broke again, swallowed his word whole. The room was filled with dead things.

Envy was gone, over, like Dante. Rose and the baby must have left somewhere in the cacophony of screams and battle, somewhere between the many Gates and worlds. Ed hoped, vaguely, that they were safe, that Rose was using those strong legs of hers.

Strong legs…he looked down and saw his own leg, whole. His whole arm. A brief flash of…something. Relief. Possessiveness. He swore never to lose his appendages again, not unless he really needed to.

"Al?" A nugget of fear was forming in the back of his mind. Was Al okay? Was he alive and breathing? Did he end up on the other side of the Gate, or in the In-Between place? Was his body still functional after all this time?

It was such a blur, the journey, the battles, the blood, the stench, the Gates, the alchemy, his own death. He couldn't remember seeing Al alive and well, couldn't remember how any of it had ended.

Maybe he wasn't alive at all. Maybe he was in his own In-Between place. Maybe he was beyond the Gate.

But all his fears were assuaged by that one, simple, wonderful word.

"Brother?"

He could wax poetic for pages, for books and volumes about that one word. _Brother_. To Al, he had never been anything else. Just a brother, a hero, a protector. He could do no wrong in his brother's eyes. He was impulsive and reckless and brilliantly smart. He was to be looked after and cared for, then let loose. He was a brother. He would always come through in the end.

His entire identity was based on the one word. _Brother_.

He looked around for Al, though, looked for the source of the sound, and his heart stopped for the eighteenth time in his life. Al was on the ground, propping himself up on one, very real, very fleshy elbow. He was no longer a suit of armor, no longer large and clanking, no longer imposing or artificial.

No, now his little brother was tiny, emaciated. He looked very near to death. "Alphonse…" The word broke out, bitter, tender, worried, comforting. Oh, life was cruel, so cruel. This was the goal, had been the goal for so many years. It was the end game.

_Be careful what you wish for_. It had seemed like such stupid advice. Why would he be careful with a wish? He had only one; he had been so sure the universe would see fit to grant just one wish on a child.

Al looked down at his body, frail, hungry, slashed and scratched and beaten. He stared at Ed with wide eyes, black eyes, and parted chapped lips. "Thank you, brother." It was such heartfelt gratitude that made Ed's own heart shatter, break, stop in his chest. "Oh, thank you."

And then Al died.

"No…" Maybe this was a dream. Maybe he was in the In-Between place, the place between Gates. Maybe he was dead, and Envy had killed him, or Dante had killed him, or the other dozens of people who'd wanted to kill him had killed him. Maybe Al was still alive, out there, somewhere. "No!"

But the vision didn't fade. Al still lay, unmoving, on the cold tile a mile under the city. Ed was still there, staring at him, suddenly ashamed of his own healthy body. Would another exchange work? Could he barter again with the Gates for his brother's soul?

Something inside told him that was impossible. He'd risked too much already.

He bent his head over Al's blond hair and wept, drawing his little brother to him. Ed was fifteen years old. Al's body was stuck at ten, small, drawn. He should still be supporting baby fat, childish, innocent eyes. But Al had none of that.

Ed pressed his face against Al's hair and cried, rocking back and forth, his Alphonse cradled in his arms. If only he'd been faster. If only he'd been better. _Equivalent Exchange, my ass_. He'd given so much to receive nothing in return. Worse, in addition to nothing, he got a broken heart.

"Brother?"

Well, that made Ed's heart stop all over again. Never had he ever been more startled in his life than when the corpse he held in his arms started speaking to him. "Alphonse?" His lips barely moved over the word, as if he was afraid that by saying it too loud, too long, his little brother would disappear forever.

In what must have been a Herculean effort, Al reached up and wrapped his frail, short arms around Ed's neck. He burrowed his face into Ed's shirt and sighed, content to sit there and be safe. "Why are you crying?"

"Oh, Alphonse…" He couldn't move, not with his own injuries, not making themselves known, not with Al, real and heavy and wonderfully alive in his arms. He didn't' know how he would escape this place, how they would get out and rejoin the real world of the living. At that moment, though, it didn't matter. "Al…" His voice cracked, broke right along with his heart.

They were both alive, if only for now. Al had his body back. He had his limbs. The homunculi were gone or going.

Soon, they would have to go to Mustang and explain everything. Before that, though, Ed would buy out a restaurant and make Al eat everything…no, he'd let the boy sleep first, for days and weeks, as long as he wanted to. Then they'd explain themselves to the world.

And Aunty Pinako would stop looking so serious and drawn, and Winry would lose that frown between her eyebrows. He'd apologize properly to Havoc for shooting him, and find little Fuery another dog, one he could keep. And maybe, just maybe, he'd make things right between him and the Colonel.

But for now he was content to sit on the floor of this old place, a place that still, after centuries, felt like a safe haven, like a sanctuary. He was content to sit with his brother, listening to both their hearts beating against each other, slow and steady and definitely there.

It was over.

***

**Except it's not. For those who think there's only one chapter left: remember the prologue. So there's actually two. We liked writing this, though. Ed is just the right balance between freaked out and relieved and confused. **

**No, he'd not in Germany. We thought that was awful. He's never going there (not that Germany isn't a lovely place, we're sure, but it's not right for Edward Elric)**

**And, as always, please review**


	20. Gloria

_"The Colonel says 'don't die under my command, you're enough trouble without the paperwork.'"_

_"Tell him that there's no way I'm dying before he is, morally bankrupt Colonel with a God complex." **Hughes and Edward**_

They waited for hours beneath that church, mostly because Edward had to get used to walking with a real leg that wasn't quite supporting him. Alphonse had slipped out of consciousness hours ago, a ghost of a smile on his thin, chapped lips.

It took another hour for Ed to haul Al up the stairs. He didn't know when or if he would ever trust Alchemy to support his weight again, but right then, after all they'd gone through, he didn't even think to clap his hands, to conjure a platform of earth that could take them up all those steps.

So Ed walked. In a way, it was his penance. Carrying his brother on his back, walking uphill under the vaulted ceiling of a religion so reaching, so omnipotent that he could never comprehend its meaning.

In his ear, Al's breaths came in short, shallow bursts. Every once in a while they would stop and the world would stop spinning and Ed's heart would stop beating until he got Al on the ground, pounded his chest until the faltering heart started beating once again.

It was slow going, step by agonizing step, but eventually Ed made it to the top of the staircase and out of the small doors. The first thing he did when he hit sunlight was run straight into Fletcher.

"Edward Elric!" Fletcher beamed, yelling to his brother, just around the corner, to come. "We were going to go in and find you." Ed lowered Alphonse to the ground gently, patting his concave cheek before straightening up.

"Who's he?" Fletcher knelt next to Al, taking in his tiny body, his shaking breaths. "Where's your brother?"

"Fletch, go get the police." Russell's voice was low and serious, and when Fletcher didn't respond right away he barked, "Now!" That sent the young boy running.

Russell held Ed's elbow as he wavered on the doorstep of the church. "That's Alphonse, isn't it? In his body?"

"Yeah." Ed grabbed Russell's shoulder (six inches higher than his own, damn!) "Get a hold of Colonel Mustang, okay? He'll know what to do with us." He was aware that he was losing consciousness fast. The ground and sky and Russell were becoming blurred, noises disjointed, but he needed to get this last bit out. "Make sure Alphonse stays alive 'til then…please…"

And then Edward Elric passed out on the steps of a church, lying in the arms of a con artist, his younger brother alive and close at hand.

***

Colonel Mustang himself was en route to the hospital when word reached him about the Elrics. "Don't let anyone see them." He ordered, "Not until I get there." He listened to the receiver, then nodded, "Yes, get them medical attention, but no one other than their doctor is to be in the room with them."

"Sir," This from Hawkeye, who was sitting opposite him in the car, her hand still locked in a death grip around the side arm that had killed Archer. Mustang didn't think she'd ever let it go. "You need your own medical attention."

"Not before I see them." At Hawkeye's expression, Mustang quirked a wry smile, "They're just kids, lieutenant, as much as they pretend that they aren't. And they're going to need the someone to sort _this _one out."

"What did they do now? Blow up a city?" But Hawkeye still looked worried, "Sir, at least let me call a doctor to meet us on the way in."

Mustang shook his head. This needed his utmost attention. He couldn't afford to be drugged up to his eyeballs when he tried to sort this debacle – and it would turn into a debacle, he could guarantee that – out.

Unfortunately, for all of his commands, he was not the first one in the room to see Edward Elric, and that almost destroyed the teen's life.

"Where's Alphonse?" Ed's voice was climbing into the upper registers as he glared at Mustang. "What have they done with my little brother?"

Mustang was tempted to say that he didn't know, damnit, give him a full report, but the sight of the skinny, stick-like arm Ed was waving around stopped him cold. "You completed the exchange?" He asked, awed and grudgingly impressed.

"Your arm!" This from Hawkeye. "Did you get your leg, too?"

"I'm fine." Ed insisted, "I just need some vitamins. Where. Is. Al." His tone left no room for half-answers or guesses, and Mustang sighed, dropping into a chair to nurse his own injuries as he tried to figure this all out. A wet cloth was pressed into his hand and Mustang took it without thinking, cleaning up some of his worst injuries.

"If you want me to sort this out, I need a full report." Mustang began, even though Edward looked like he was in no condition to report. He probably didn't even know _how_. It was Alphonse who usually gave the most concise overview of the brothers' adventures, Alphonse who kept Edward from going off on tangents as he told a story.

Ed stopped fighting against the various tubes that held him to the bed. He stopped fighting at all. Leaning against the flat pillows, he began a story that Mustang couldn't possibly believe. Something about Dante who was no longer Dante, and a Rose who couldn't speak, and a baby, a church, and the Gates.

One day, Mustang would have to question him in detail about the Gates.

In his report, which was hurried until it got to the part about Alphonse (who had a body now? How could that be possible?) only one thing stuck out that made absolutely no sense. "The law of Equivalent Exchange is false." No elaboration, as if it were a fact, as if that one sentence was not contradicting everything Mustang thought he knew.

One day, Mustang would get the full story, with details and a plot and characters in depth. But not today.

"Al was hurt…he couldn't breathe right…he's so small…" That was when Ed started to lose it. Hawkeye placed a comforting hand on his arm before turning to Mustang and mouthing the word, _small?_

Mustang got up, injuries be damned. It seemed they would have to pay a visit to Alphonse.

The younger Elric's room was packed, and it took Mustang throwing his rank around to even get in the room. Alphonse was pressed against the side of his bed, shaking his head as a man talked to him softly, tugging at his arm. "No, I don't want to leave. Where's my brother?"

Mustang got between the man and Al. Hawkeye got on Al's other side, her gun (still out, still held in her hand) managing to ward off most of the intruders.

"It's nice to see you, Alphonse." And Mustang meant it. He had never seen the younger Elric, not really. His body was emaciated to be sure, and he appeared no older than ten, but the resemblance to Edward was striking. The same expressive eyebrows and long hands, the same set to the mouth, the same broad shoulders. "It seems as if you've been through an ordeal."

"They want to take me away." Alphonse said, his gesture at the room so weak and helpless that Mustang felt his heart clench. "And I don't know where Brother is. I don't know if he's alright…"

Hawkeye pressed Al's hand, so tiny it fit very easily into her own small hand. "You're not going anywhere. We'll sort this out."

"This is unprecedented!" A man from behind Mustang exclaimed, "This boy shouldn't be alive! You cannot deny science…he needs to be studied!"

"He is a boy!" Mustang roared. He was so sick of different factions claiming the Elrics as their own, and he was sick of seeing them treated as lab experiments, weapons, less than human. "He is a very sick boy, and he won't be going anywhere."

"You can't deny science." The man repeated, "I will get the boy." And he left, sweeping the most of the others out with him and his threat.

Mustang looked down at Alphonse and thought that he may be one of the only people in world not to see a medical experiment or a brilliant alchemist but scared little boy. "It'll be okay." But there was no conviction behind the words. Mustang knew that the Elric's adventures were far from over, that they had probably just begun.

"Are they going to take me away?" Alphonse asked quietly, blinking up at Mustang with silver eyes.

"No." Edward said from the doorway, his voice cracking on the word, breaking just as his heart broke at the sight of his brother surrounded by so many people who didn't care a whit about him. With slow, deliberate steps on one healthy leg and one absurdly tiny one, Ed made his way to Al's bed, his IV trailing after him. Slowly, he climbed next to his brother. Slowly, he put his arm around him.

"Brother…" This from Al, a small, gasping word, as if the younger boy was trying to hold the pieces of his life together in the form of his brother, his protector.

"No one is ever going to take you away, Al." Ed said fiercely, a dare to the world to try.

**One chapter left. That's kind of a sad thought. We liked writing the Elrics. Anyone have any ideas for another FMA story?**

**Anyways, review.**


	21. Epilogue

_"The only thing that makes sense is moving forward." **Edward Elric**_

In the dark of the night, Ed's door opened.

Years of being in the military, of learning to expect attacks, of getting injured and re-injured, had honed Ed's reflexes until they were drawn tight as a violin's string. He jerked upright, ignoring the dizziness he got from the sudden motion, and gazed blearily at the door.

He was expecting Mustang. Since he'd woken up in the hospital a week ago, the Colonel had been a staple to his room, impatiently allowing doctors to treat his wounds while "looking after" Edward. There had been a fare few arguments, each devolving into name-calling until Hawkeye returned from guarding Alphonse to kick out her superior officer. "You're supposed to be setting an example," she'd admonish.

"He started it."

But it wasn't Mustang this time. Ed scrambled to his feet, tangling himself in blankets as he rushed to meet Alphonse, struggling through the door. "Al, you're not supposed to be moving, your body can't take it." But he had never had the heart to send his little brother away, not even when they were children.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, brother." On anyone else this might have been a cover-up for night terrors, old phobias brought to light in a crowded hospital, but the simple honesty in Al's voice, the familiar touch of his hand, feather-light on Ed's arm, proved the sincerity of his words.

"I'm not the one who needs to gain twenty pounds before they're allowed out of here." Ed said gently, leading Al over to the bed and watching him painfully settle down. He opened his mouth again…

"If you say you're sorry, Edward Elric, I'll transmute you into a rock." It was the use of his first name (the first time in four years, the first time since That Day, when they tried to get mother back, but Ed wouldn't realize _that_ until later) that made Ed close his mouth, smile sadly at his little brother.

"I worry."

"I know." Al had the face and voice of a child, his body now ten years old. He had to keep reminding Hawkeye, the nurses, Winry, anyone who visited him that he was fourteen, that they didn't have to talk down to him. "But Edward…"

"If I can't say that I'm sorry you can't say that I saved you." Ed collapsed on the bed, his one tiny leg still not able to support him, though he was a lot closer to recovery than Alphonse. The doctors said that his little brother will now be his…littler brother. They didn't know how to make him age, and Al insisted that it was a minor problem until they stopped pestering him about it.

Al hummed to himself, a small noise in the back of the throat, and put one hand on Ed's shoulder. Ed grasped it in his own, his heart breaking at the fact that it could fit so easily inside his own. It was the size of Elisia's hand, of a little girl's.

"Brother…you did save me." Al yawned. He hadn't been able to keep awake for more than a half hour at a time, less if there were visitors. He'd spent four years without sleep, his body was just trying to catch up. "I owe you everything."

It was times like this where it was impossible to forget that Al was just a year Ed's junior. Ed swallowed the lump in his throat, stroked Al's downy hair as he leaned against Ed's arm. "We're brothers, Al, there's nothing to owe."

How could he explain that Al had saved him just as often? How could he make Al see that their relationship was a series of sacrifices, of heated arguments and subtle subterfuge and, ultimately, love? There was nothing to reciprocate, nothing, but Alphonse would never see that. His little brother was an expert as seeing the good qualities in everyone around him, yet was always astounded to find that he possessed any himself.

"You saved my life." Al's mouth opened in another yawn, revealing two rows of mismatched adult and baby teeth, a small pink tongue. He leaned more heavily against Ed, who threw two of the hospital sheets over the both of them.

"I was the one who took it away." Ed reminded him, "I was the one who suggested the transumation in the first place."

Al snuggled himself deeper into the covers, sighed when Ed threw an arm around his still-too-small body. "We're pretty messed up, aren't we brother?"

"Yeah." Ed stared out the window, wondering where the heck the next horizon was, "But we'll manage somehow. We always have." He let out a long, low breath, "Seems like everything works out in the end."

"It was a good ending." Al agreed, "The best we could have hoped for, after everything…"

Ed could think of a few better choices. Hughes could have lived to see his daughter grow up. Mustang could have not gotten so bitter at the world. They could have seen Winry more often…but, Ed supposed that in the end, they still had each other. They were alive and whole.

And, in the end, that's all that really mattered.

Somehow, they ended up on their backs, limbs tangled together. Ed thought Al was asleep when he spoke the words aloud to the room, "Love you, Alphonse."

But the sigh in his ear was the last thing he heard before dawn broke over the world, and they most definitely did not come from someone who was asleep. "I know, brother." Al might have hugged him closer at that point, but perhaps Ed's memory was adding that in, "I love you, too."

There, with his brother lying real and heavy under his arm, years away from the first fissure when it had begun to break, Ed's heart began to heal itself.

**The End.**

**It was short, but it was the Epilogue. There will be another FMA story…in the future. Only because we love the story too much not to play with it a little more.**

**And, lastly, please review.**


End file.
